BT  1101  . F57  1902 
Fisher,  George  Park,  1827- 
1909. 

The  grounds  of  theistic  and 

Plnri  i  on 


J 


THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND 
CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


\  JV  i 


C 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/groundsoftheisti00fish_1 


THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND 
CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


BY 

GEORGE  PARK  FISHER,  D.D.,  LL.D. 

EMERITUS  PROFESSOR  OF  ECCLESIASTICAL  HISTORY 
IN  YALE  UNIVERSITY 


REVISED  EDITION :  IN  GREAT  PART  REWRITTEN 


'N 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER’S  SONS 

1902 


COPYRIGHT,  1883,  1902,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER’S  SONS 


Published  October,  1902. 


Norfocioti  IPress 

J.  S.  Cushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.  S.  A. 


WILLIAM  SANDAY  D.D.,  LL.D. 

LADY  MARGARET  PROFESSOR  OF  DIVINITY  AT  OXFORD 
AND  CANON  OF  CHRIST  CHURCH 

WHOSE  WRITINGS  ARE  AN  EXAMPLE  TO  CONTEMPORARY  SCHOLARS 
OF  THOROUGH  INVESTIGATION  AND  FAULTLESS  CANDOR 


STIjts  Yoiumc  is  ©cfiicatcti 


9 


PREFACE 


When  I  found  that  this  book  after  a  score  of  years  since  its 
publication  was  still  widely  read  at  home  and  abroad,  I  felt 
something  like  an  obligation  to  put  it  in  a  form  more  consonant 
with  what  I  should  wish  to  say  at  present.  I  have  done  much 
in  revising  and  recasting  its  contents,  especially  since  gaining 
as  emeritus  professor  the  continuity  of  time  so  favorable  to 
literary  work.  The  leading  propositions  in  the  book  will  not  be 
found  to  be  materially  altered.  The  arguments  in  support  of 
them  have  experienced  modifications  of  some  importance,  and 
still  more  the  language  in  which  they  are  set  forth.  The  rela¬ 
tions  of  Christian  Theism  to  natural  and  physical  science  are 
more  elaborately  discussed  than  in  the  earlier  edition.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  evidence  pertaining  to  the  origin  and  author¬ 
ship  of  the  Gospels.  In  preparing  to  take  up  anew  the  first  of 
these  main  topics,  I  have  resorted  to  the  writings  of  naturalists 
of  the  best  repute  and  been  aided  by  personal  converse  with 
adepts  in  these  branches.  I  have  meant  to  treat  with  just 
respect  the  authority  of  these  sources  of  knowledge.  At  the 
same  time  every  discerning  student  understands  the  necessity 
of  drawing  a  line  between  the  real  data  of  science,  with  the 
conclusions  fairly  deduced  and  the  metaphysics  often  mingled 
pretty  largely  in  treatises  which,  on  their  own  ground,  may  be 
safe  guides. 

By  German  scholars,  some  of  them  of  much  celebrity,  it  is 
felt  to  be  high  time  to  utter  a  protest  against  what  had  grown 
to  be  a  disrespect,  as  prevalent  as  it  is  unreasonable,  for  early 
ecclesiastical  tradition  relative  to  the  date  of  New  Testament 
writings.  The  reaction  against  the  moribund  formula  of  the 
impeccability  of  Scripture  even  outside  the  limits  of  moral  and 
religious  doctrine  has  opened  the  door  to  a  boundless  field  of 
conjecture  in  handling  the  New  Testament  narratives,  both  as 
to  the  Introduction  and  in  the  special  precinct  of  exegesis. 
Upon  this  license  a  sounder  Biblical  criticism  is  called  upon  to 
impose  a  proper  restraint.  In  reference  to  the  New  Testament 


Vlll 


PREFACE 


narratives,  I  see  no  reason  for  setting  aside  the  traditional 
ascription  of  the  book  of  Acts  —  including  the  passages  from  a 
fellow-traveller  of  Paul,  speaking  in  the  first  person  —  to  the 
authorship  of  Luke,  the  writer  of  the  third  Gospel.  Nor  am  I 
convinced  of  the  non-apostolic  or  composite  authorship  of  the 
fourth  Gospel.  The  suggestion,  for  one  thing,  that  there  was  a 
confusion  of  names  on  the  part  of  Irenaeus  —  a  mistaking  by 
him  in  the  discourses  of  Polycarp  of  one  John  when  another 
was  meant  —  appears  to  me  improbable  in  the  extreme.  The 
inference,  based  on  the  Synoptics,  for  the  negative  position  on 
the  question  of  authorship  strikes  me  as  resting  on  misinterpre¬ 
tation  of  the  first  three  Gospels,  and  an  indefensible  scepticism 
concerning  additional  matter  contained  in  the  fourth. 

Of  the  two  branches  of  Christian  Evidences,  the  internal  or 
moral,  and  the  external  proof  from  miracles,  it  will  be  seen  that 
the  precedence  is  accorded  to  the  former.  This  is  a  point  of 
difference  from  the  older  method  usual  in  the  school  of  Paley. 
In  truth  they  are  two  mutually  supporting  species  of  evidence. 

I  abstain,  in  deference  to  what  might  be  their  preference,  to 
mention  the  names  of  friends  whom  I  have  consulted  with  profit 
in  the  composition  and  issue  of  this  work.  I  must  be  allowed 
to  make  one  exception,  and  to  express  my  thanks  to  Professor 
Charles  J.  H.  Ropes,  of  Bangor,  who  has  kindly  read  the  proof- 
sheets  of  several  chapters,  respecting  which  his  learning  and 
accuracy  were  especially  helpful. 

I  must  expect  that,  among  the  readers  who  may  be  interested 
in  the  general  subject  of  this  volume,  some  will  be  less  attracted 
by  the  sections  that  are  concerned  with  the  philosophical  objec¬ 
tions  to  theism,  or  with  the  details  of  critical  evidence  on  the 
genuineness  of  the  Gospels.  But  even  this  class,  I  trust,  will 
find  the  major  part  of  the  book  not  altogether  ill-suited  to  their 
wants.  I  venture  to  indulge  the  hope  that  they  may  derive 
from  it  some  aid  in  clearing  up  perplexities,  and  some  new 
light  upon  the  nature  of  the  Christian  faith  and  its  relation  to 
the  Scriptures.  Fortunately  readers  as  well  as  teachers  are  at 
liberty  to  exercise  the  right  of  omission. 

G.  P.  F. 

Yale  University, 

October,  1902. 


EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  PREFACE  TO 
THE  FIRST  EDITION 


This  volume  embraces  a  discussion  of  the  evidences  of  both 
natural  and  revealed  religion.  Prominence  is  given  to  topics 
having  special  interest  at  present  from  their  connection  with 
modern  theories  and  difficulties.  With  respect  to  the  first  divi¬ 
sion  of  the  work,  the  grounds  of  the  belief  in  God,  it  hardly 
need  be  said  that  theists  are  not  all  agreed  as  to  the  method  to 
be  pursued,  and  as  to  what  arguments  are  of  most  weight  in  the 
defence  of  this  fundamental  truth.  I  can  only  say  of  these 
introductory  chapters,  that  they  are  the  product  of  long  study 
and  reflection.  The  argument  of  design  and  the  bearing  of 
evolutionary  doctrine  on  its  validity  are  fully  considered.  It 
is  made  clear,  I  believe,  that  no  theory  of  evolution  which  is 
not  pushed  to  the  extreme  of  materialism  and  fatalism  —  dog¬ 
mas  which  lack  all  scientific  warrant  —  weakens  the  proof  from 
final  causes.  In  dealing  with  antitheistic  theories,  the  agnostic 
philosophy,  partly  from  the  show  of  logic  and  of  system  which 
it  presents,  partly  from  the  guise  of  humility  which  it  wears,' — 
not  to  speak  of  the  countenance  given  it  by  some  naturalists  of 
note,  —  seemed  to  call  for  particular  attention.  One  radical 
question  in  the  conflict  with  atheism  is  whether  man  himself  is 
really  a  personal  being,  whether  he  has  a  moral  history  distinct 
from  a  merely  natural  history.  If  he  has  not,  then  it  is  idle  to 
talk  about  theism,  but  equally  idle  to  talk  about  the  data  of 
ethics.  Ethics  must  share  the  fate  of  religion.  How  can  there 
be  serious  belief  in  responsible  action  when  man  is  not  free, 
and  is  not  even  a  substantial  entity  ?  If  this  question  were  dis¬ 
posed  of,  further  difficulties,  to  be  sure,  would  be  left  in  the 
path  of  agnostic  ethics.  How  can  self-seeking  breed  benevo¬ 
lence,  or  self-sacrifice  and  the  sense  of  duty  spring  out  of  the 

ix 


4 


X 


FROM  THE  PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION 


“  struggle  for  existence  ”  ?  Another  radical  question  is  that  of 
the  reality  of  knowledge.  Are  things  truly  knowable  ?  Or  is 
what  we  call  knowledge  a  mere  phantasmagoria,  produced  we 
know  not  by  what  ?  This  is  the  creed  which  some  one  has 
aptly  formulated  in  the  Shakespearean  lines  :  — 

“We  are  such  stuff 

As  dreams  are  made  of,  and  our  little  life 

Is  rounded  with  a  sleep.” 

In  the  second  division  of  the  work  the  course  pursued  is 
different  from  that  usually  taken  by  writers  on  the  Evidences 
of  Revelation.  A  natural  effect  of  launching  an  ordinary  in¬ 
quirer  at  once  upon  a  critical  investigation  of  the  authorship  of 
the  Gospels  is  to  bewilder  his  mind  among  patristic  authorities 
that  are  strange  to  him.  I  have  preferred  to  follow,  though 
with  an  opposite  result,  the  general  method  adopted  of  late  by 
noted  writers  of  the  sceptical  schools.  I  have  undertaken  to 
show  that  when  we  take  the  Gospels  as  they  stand,  prior  to 
researches  into  the  origin  of  them,  the  miraculous  element 
in  the  record  is  found  to  carry  in  it  a  self-verifying  character. 
On  the  basis  of  what  must  be,  and  actually  is,  conceded,  the 
conclusion  cannot  be  avoided  that  the  miracles  occurred.  This 
vantage-ground  once  fairly  gained,  the  matter  of  the  authorship 
and  date  of  the  Gospels  can  be  explored  without  the  bias  which 
a  prejudice  against  the  miraculous  elements  in  the  narrative 
creates  against  its  apostolic  origin.  Then  it  remains  to  estab¬ 
lish  the  truthfulness  of  the  apostolic  witnesses,  and,  further,  to 
vindicate  the  supernatural  features  of  the  Gospel  history  from 
the  objection  that  is  suggested  by  the  stories  of  pagan  miracles 
and  by  the  legends  of  the  saints.  ...  In  earlier  and  later 
chapters  I  have  sought  to  direct  the  reader  into  lines  of  reflec¬ 
tion  which  may  serve  to  impress  him  with  the  truth  contained 
in  the  remark  that  the  strongest  proof  of  Christianity  is  afforded 
by  Christianity  itself  and  by  Christendom  as  an  existing  fact. 


G.  P.  F. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I 

The  Personality  of  God  and  of  Man  :  The  Self-revelation 

of  God  in  the  Human  Soul 


PAGE 

The  Two  Beliefs  associated . 1 

The  Essentials  of  Personality . 2 

The  Reality  of  Self  ..........  2 

Self-determination  ..........  3 

Theories  of  Necessity  and  Determinism  ......  5 

The  Consciousness  of  Moral  Law  .......  16 

The  Aspiration  to  commune  with  God  .  .  .  .  .  .  18 

Instincts  of  Feeling  as  Indicative  of  Truth  .  .  .  .  •  .  20 

The  Belief  in  Immortality . 20 

The  Place  of  Will  in  Religious  Faith  ......  20 

Anticipative  Presentiment  in  Religion . 22 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Arguments  for  the  Being  of  God  :  Tiieir  Function  in 
General  and  as  Severally  considered 


The  Ultimate  Source  of  Belief  in  God . 24 

The  Intuition  of  the  Absolute  ........  24 

The  Ontological  Argument . 26 

The  Cosmological  Argument  ........  27 

The  Uncaused  Being  a  Voluntary  Agent . 28 

Disproof  of  Polytheism . 29 

The  Argument  from  Design  :  its  Significance  .....  30 

The  a  priori  Basis  of  this  Argument . 32 

Mind  Discernible  in  Nature  ........  33 

Science  the  Reflex  of  Mind  in  Nature  .  .  .  .  .34 

Distinction  between  Order  and  Design  ......  35 

Teleology  Evident  in  Plants  ........  36 

Teleology  most  Manifest  in  Animal  Organisms  ....  37 

Objections  to  the  Design-argument  answered . 38 

^  The  Four  Criticisms  suggested  by  Kant . 42 

\  The  Hypothesis  of  Chance . 43 


xi 


CONTENTS 


•  • 

Xll 

PAGE 

Evolution  and  Design :  Meaning  of  Evolution . 45 

Design-argument  strengthened  by  Evolution . 46 

Teleology  and  Mechanism . 49 

Variability  in  Organisms . 49 

Darwin  on  Variability  and  Design . 49 

Respecting  the  Attributes  of  God . 53 

The  Moral  Argument . 55 

The  Problem  of  Evil  . . 56 

The  Historical  Argument . 59 

Personality  consistent  with  Infinitude . 60 

The  World  like  Man  for  a  Purpose . 62 

CHAPTER  III 

The  Principal  Anti-theistic  Theories  :  Pantheism,  Positivism, 

Materialism,  Agnosticism 

The  Four  Terms  defined . 63 

What  is  Pantheism  ? . 63 

The  System  of  Spinoza  .  .63 

The  German  Systems  of  Ideal  Pantheism  ......  65 

No  Place  in  Pantheism  for  Free  Choice  or  Responsibility  ...  67 

Positivism:  Not  Self-consistent . 67 

J.  S.  Mill’s  Modifications  of  Positivism . 68 

Materialism . 68 

Relation  of  Consciousness  to  Physical  States . 69 

Materialism  a  Self -destructive  Theory . 70 

The  Doctrine  of  “  Conscious  Automatism  ”  .  .  .  .  .71 

The  Agnostic  System  of  Spencer . 72 

Spencer’s  Theory  of  Evolution  examined . 74 

Later  Expressions  of  Spencer  .........  77 

Agnosticism  the  Destruction  of  Science . 78 

Untenable  Identification  of  Mind  and  Matter  .  .  .  .  .79 
The  Question  of  the  Reality  of  Knowledge  .....  82 

Locke,  Berkeley,  Hume,  Kant  ........  83 

Hamilton  and  Mansel  .........  84 

Mill’s  Revival  of  Hume’s  Speculations . 86 

Relation  of  Spencer  to  Hume  and  Mill  ......  86 

How  Philosophy  to  escape  from  its  Aberrations  ....  88 

CHAPTER  IV 

The  Divine  Origin  of  Christianity  evinced  in  its  Adapted¬ 
ness  to  the  Deepest  Necessities  of  Man 

The  Practical  Test  of  Christianity  .......  89 

The  Soul’s  Need  of  God . 90 


CONTENTS  xiii 

PAGE 

The  Feeling  awakened  in  the  Miseries  of  Life . 91 

The  Experience  of  Goethe.  Letter  of  Carlyle  .....  92 

The  Consciousness  of  Sin  and  Guilt . 92 

The  Consciousness  of  Moral  Bondage . 94 

Recognition  in  the  Bible  of  the  Facts  of  Life . 96 

Reconciliation  to  God  through  the  Gospel  .....  96 

Filial  Union  to  God  through  Christ . 98 

Peace  and  Victory  over  the  World . 98 


CHAPTER  V 

The  Divine  Mission  of  Jesus  attested  by  the  Transforming 
Agency  of  Christianity  in  Human  Society 


The  Power  of  Christianity  evinced  in  its  Progress  ....  99 

The  Beneficence  of  its  Influence . 100 

Prediction  of  the  Nature  and  Effect  of  its  Progress  ....  101 

New  Ideal  of  Man  and  Society . 101 

Christianity  and  the  Family  ........  103 

Christianity  and  the  State .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  104 

Christianity  and  Liberty . 104 

Christianity  and  International  Relations . 107 

Christianity  and  Charity . 108 

Christianity  and  Social  Reform . 113 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  Evidence  of  the  Divine  Origin  of  Christianity  from  its 
Ethical  and  Religious  Teaching  and  from  the  Comparison 


of  it  with  the  Greek  Philosophy 

Through  Christianity  the  Kingdom  of  God  made  Universal  .  .115 

Seeds  of  Truth  in  the  Teaching  of  Jesus . 116 

In  his  Teaching  Religion  and  Morality  Inseparable  .  .  .  .116 

Christian  Precepts  not  merely  Negative  .  .  .  .  .  .117 

In  the  Gospel  Particular  Obligations  not  Undervalued  .  .  .117 

Active  as  well  as  Passive  Virtues  enjoined . 118 

Christianity  distinctively  a  Religion  .......  119 

The  Greek  Philosophy  as  an  Intellectual  Achievement  .  .  .  119 

The  Greek  Philosophy  a  Preparation  for  the  Gospel ....  120 

Socrates  and  his  Teachings  compared  with  the  Gospel  .  .  .  120 

Plato  and  his  Doctrines  compared  with  the  Gospel  ....  122 

Aristotle  and  his  Doctrines  compared  with  the  Gospel  .  .  .  126 

Greek  Systems  become  Practical  .  .  .  .  .  .  .128 

The  Theology  and  Ethics  of  Epicurus  .  .  .  .  .  .129 

The  Characteristic  Principles  of  Stoicism . 129 


XIV 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


The  Special  Character  of  Roman  Stoicism  .....  131 

The  Teaching  of  Seneca  and  its  Sources  .  .  .  .  .  .132 

Stoic  Teachings  compared  with  Christianity  .....  133 

New  Platonism  :  Philosophy  lapses  into  Pantheism  ....  137 

The  Actual  Aids  of  Philosophy  Insufficient . 139 

Its  Imperfect  Conception  of  God . 141 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  Consciousness  in  Jesus  of  a  Supernatural  Calling 

RENDERED  CREDIBLE  BY  HIS  SiNLESS  CHARACTER 


The  Facts  of  the  Gospel  indirectly  verified . 142 

The  Credibility  of  the  Testimony  of  Jesus  respecting  himself  .  .144 

The  Alternatives  of  Credence  Untenable  ......  144 

Summary  of  this  Testimony  of  Jesus  ......  145 

Proof  of  the  Sanity  and  Sobriety  of  Jesus  .....  14(3 

No  Credulity  then  to  warrant  Disbelief  now  .....  148 

\/  Words  and  Actions  of  Jesus  consonant  with  his  Claims  .  .  .  150 

The  Sinless  Character  of  Jesus  insures  Self-knowledge  .  .  .151 

The  Character  of  Jesus  tried  by  Temptation  .  .  .  .  .152 

Ilis  Sinlessness  Plain  to  his  Enemies . 153 

Unison  of  Virtues  in  his  Character  .......  154 

His  Freedom  from  Self-accusation  .  .  .  .  .  .  .155 

Moral  Criticism  of  his  Character  Baseless  ......  156 

His  Character  tested  by  his  Experience  .  .  .  .  .  .159 

The  Direct  Probative  Weight  of  his  Sinlessness  ....  161 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Miracles  :  Their  Nature,  Credibility,  and  Place  in 


Christian  Evidences 

Revelation  in  Nature  and  Providence  presupposed  in  Christianity  .  163 

Consistency  of  the  Two  Revelations  .  .  .  .  .  .  .163 

The  Gospel  not  an  Afterthought  of  the  Creator  ....  164 

The  Purpose  of  the  Christian  Miracles  ......  165 

The  Untheistic  Conception  of  Nature  ......  165 

The  Relation  of  Miracles  to  the  Constancy  of  Nature  .  .  .  167 

The  Credibility  of  Miracles  :  Hume’s  Objection  ....  168 

Huxley’s  Criticism  of  Hume . 170 

Criticism  of  Huxley’s  Position  ........  170 

The  “  Order  of  Nature  ”  not  disturbed  by  a  Miracle  ....  173 

Nature  of  the  Miracle-working  Power  of  Jesus . 173 

Precedence  in  the  Proofs  of  Christianity  belongs  not  to  Miracles  .  174 

Value  of  the  Proof  from  Miracles . 175 


CONTENTS 


XV 


CHAPTER  IX 

Proof  of  the  Miracles  of  Christ  independently  of  Special 
Inquiry  into  the  Authorship  of  the  Gospels 

PAGE 

Miracles  professed  to  be  wrought  by  the  Apostles  .  .  .  .178 

The  Injunctions  of  Jesus  not  to  report  Miracles  ....  180 

Cautions  against  an  Excessive  Esteem  of  Miracles  ....  182 

Teachings  of  Jesus  Inseparable  from  Miracles  .....  183 

Not  True  that  Miracles  then  excited  no  Surprise  .  .  .  .188 

No  Miracles  said  to  be  wrought  by  Jesus  prior  to  his  Ministry  .  189 

The  Persistence  of  the  Apostles’  Eaith  an  Evidence  of  Miracles  .  189 

Miracles  inwoven  with  the  Nexus  of  Occurrences  ....  190 

Evidence  of  the  Fact  of  the  Resurrection  of  Jesus  .  .  .  .192 

Criticism  of  the  “  Vision  Theory  ”  .......  194 

The  Criteria  of  Hallucination  Absent  ......  196 

Keim’s  Denial  of  the  Vision  Theory  .......  197 

Keim’s  Admission  of  a  miraculous  Self-manifestation  of  Jesus  .  199 

The  Naturalistic  Theory  of  the  Miracles  Obsolete  ....  199 

Strauss’s  Contempt  for  this  Theory  .......  200 

Strauss’s  Mythical  Theory  ........  200 

Renan’s  Imputation  of  Conscious  Deceit  ......  201 

Christian  Evidences  not  Demonstrative  :  to  be  taken  Collectively  .  203 


CHAPTER  X 

The  Gospels  an  Authentic  Record  of  the  Testimony  given 


by  the  Apostles 

Authorship  and  Date  of  the  Gospels :  Why  so  Important  .  .  204 

Record  of  Miracles  not  a  Ground  for  Distrust  .....  204 

Special  Proofs  of  the  Genuineness  of  the  Gospels  ....  204 

Authority  of  the  Four  acknowledged  in  the  Churches  .  .  .  205 

But  not  dictated  by  Any  Organization  ......  205 

Testimony  of  Irenseus  .........  205 

Tertullian,  Clement  of  Alexandria,  Muratorian  Canon  .  .  .  206 

Representative  Character  of  Individuals . 207 

Value  of  Testimony  of  Ireneeus  .......  207 

Objections  to  the  Witness  of  Irenseus  answered  ....  209 

Justin  Martyr :  his  Memoirs  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .211 

Outlines  of  his  References  to  the  Gospels . 212 

Why  he  quotes  mainly  from  the  Synoptics  .  .  .  .  214 

Few  References  in  J.  without  Parallelisms  in  the  Gospels  .  .  215 

His  Memoirs  substantially  Coincident  with  the  Gospels  .  .  .  217 

His  Quotations  not  exceptionally  Inexact  ......  219 

His  Memoirs  specially  refer  to  the  Four . 220 


XVI 


CONTENTS 


Tatian’s  Diates^eron  . . 

The  Non-canonical  Writings  held  in  Honor 

Apocryphal  Gospels . 

The  Gnostics  had  no  Competitors  with  the  Four 
Celsus  an  Indirect  Witness  for  the  Four  .... 

Papias  :  his  T<  stimony . 

The  Logia  of  Matthew . 

Marcion  aclm*  wledged  the  Four . 

The  Prologue  of  the  Third  Gospel . 

/Internal  Evidf  nee  in  the  First  Three  Gospels  . 

The  Prophetic  Discourse  of  Jesus . 

Other  Water-marks  of  Age  ...... 

The  Mutual  Relation  of  the  Synoptics  .... 

The  Integrity  of  the  Gospels . 

The  Credibility  and  Lukan  Authorship  of  the  Acts  . 
Comparison  of  the  Earlier  and  the  Later  Chapters  . 

The  “  Speaking  with  Tongues  ”  ..... 

The  Speeches  in  Acts  ....... 

The  Apostolic  Conference,  Acts  xv.,  compared  with  Gal.  ii. 
Paul’s  Rebuke  of  Peter  ....... 

Decisive  Proof  the  Verity  of  Acts  xv . 


PAGE 

222 

222 

223 

224 
226 
226 
228 

229 

230 

231 

232 

233 

234 

235 

237 

238 

239 

240 

241 

242 

243 


CHAPTER  XI 

The  Authorship  op  the  Fourth  Gospel 

Unlikeness  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  to  the  Synoptics  ....  245 

Usual  Belief  respecting  the  Apostle  John . 245 

The  Apostolic  Authorship  until  recently  Virtually  undisputed  .  .  246 

The  Tubingen  School :  The  Theory  of  Baur . 247 

A  much  Earlier  Date  of  the  Gospel  at  Present  granted  .  .  .  249 

Early  References  to  Ancient  Classics  often  Scanty  ....  250 

Evidence  offered  by  Parties  outside  of  the  Church  ....  253 

Hypothesis  that  the  Apostle  was  confounded  with  “the  Presbyter”  254 

Did  Iremeus  misunderstand  Poly  carp  ? . 254 

What  is  known  of  the  “  Presbyter  John  ”  ? . 257 

Theory  of  a  Confusion  of  Names  Improbable  .  .  .  .  .258 

The  Asian  Residence  and  Influence  of  the  Apostle  ....  258 

Testimony  of  the  Gospel,  cli.  xxi.  .......  262 

The  Alogi . 263 

Hypothesis  that  Disciples  of  John  wrote  the  Gospel  ....  265 

The  Hypothesis  of  a  Composite  Authorship  :  Wendt  .  .  .  266 

The  Unity  of  Authorship  Evident  .......  268 

Partition  Theories  excluded  by  John  xxi.  24  ....  269 

Internal  Evidences . 270 


CONTENTS  xvii 

PAGB 

The  Author  a  Palestinian  Hebrew . 270 

The  Author’s  Name  not  mentioned  .  .  .  .  .  .  .271 

The  Author  an  Eye-witness  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .271 

The  Gospel  virtually  an  Autobiography . 274 

The  Author’s  Personal  Love  to  Jesus . 275 

The  Author’s  References  to  “  The  Jews” . 275 

Bearing  of  Other  N.  T.  Documents  on  the  Question  ....  277 

The  Apocalypse  and  the  Fourth  Gospel . 277 

Frequency  of  Wrong  Inferences  from  Diversity  of  Style  .  .  .  278 

Theory  of  Allegorical  Facts  Untenable . 279 

Examples  of  Historical  Reminiscences  in  the  Gospel  .  .  .  280 

Renan’s  Citations  of  the  Same  Character  ......  281 

Critical  Objections  based  on  Misinterpretation  .....  282 

The  Author’s  Estimate  of  Miracles . 283 

Theological  Aspect  of  the  Gospel  .......  283 

The  Gospel  and  Alexandrian  Judaism  ......  284 

Comparison  of  the  “  Logos  ”  Doctrine  in  John  and  in  Philo  .  .  284 

Observations  of  Harnack  on  this  Topic  ......  285 

Observations  of  Loofs  on  the  Topic  .......  286 

John  and  the  Synoptics  .........  289 

Frequent  Misconception  of  the  Design  and  Character  of  the  Synoptics  289 
A  Certain  Subjective  (not  Fictitious)  Element  in  John  .  .  .  290 

The  Duration  of  the  Ministry  of  Jesus . 291 

The  Cleansing  of  the  Temple  ........  292 

The  Date  of  the  Crucifixion  ........  292 

The  Doings  and  Sayings  of  John  the  Baptist  .....  294 

The  Message  of  the  Baptist  to  Jesus  .......  297 

Import  of  the  Conversation  at  Csesarea-Pliilippi  ....  298 

The  Method  of  Jesus  in  disclosing  his  Messialiship  ....  300 

The  Discourses  of  Jesus  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  .  .  .  .  .301 

Mistaken  Objections  from  their  Character  .....  301 

The  Theology  of  the  Synoptics  and  John  not  essentially  Different  .  304 

The  Character  of  Ancient  Pseudonymous  Writings  ....  306 

The  Theory  of  a  Close  Relation  of  the  Evangelist  to  the  Apostle  .  307 

The  View  of  Weizsacker  .........  307 

The  View  of  Harnack  .........  308 

The  Choice  between  Two  Hypotheses . 309 

CHAPTER  XII 

Tiie  Trustworthiness  op  the  Apostles’  Testimony  as  pre¬ 
sented  by  the  Evangelists 


Not  a  Question  respecting  Inspiration 
The  Choice  of  the  Apostles :  Their  Function 


.  310 

.  310 


CONTENTS 


xviii 


The  Apostles  consciously  called  to  be  Witnesses 
The  Apostles  always  consciously  Disciples  .... 
Frankly  relate  Instances  of  their  own  Ignorance  and  Weakness 
Relate  their  Mistakes  and  the  Reproofs  of  Jesus 

Relate  their  Serious  Delinquencies . 

'Narrate  Instances  of  Sinless  Infirmity  in  Jesus 

Submit  to  Extreme  Suffering  and  Death . 

The  Suspicion  of  Dishonesty  in  the  Apostles  Absurd 
To  impute  to  them  Self-delusion  is  Unreasonable 
Their  Testimony  not  shaken  by  the  Narration  of  Miracles 
Answer  of  Bishop  Butler  to  Sceptics  on  this  Subject 
The  Accounts  of  the  Birth  and  Early  Life  of  Jesus  . 

The  Gospels  not  moulded  by  a  Doctrinal  Bias  .... 
The  Mythical  Theory  not  Less  Untenable  .... 


PAGE 

312 

313 
313 
315 

315 

316 

317 

318 

318 

319 
319 

319 

320 

321 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  Relation  of  the  Christian  Faith  to  the  Bible  and 

to  Biblical  Criticism 


Does  Critical  Science  imperil  the  Foundations  of  Christianity  ? 

The  Bible  the  Source  of  Christian  Knowledge  . 

Its  Life-giving  Power . 

Special  Problems  and  Distinctions  respecting  the  Bible 

Origin  of  Rigid  Maxims  on  Biblical  Inerrancy  .  .  .  .  . 

Distinction  between  the  Bible  and  Christianity  .  .  .  . 

Revelation  in  and  through  a  Process  of  Redemption 

Revelation  Historical  in  the  Ancient  and  the  N.  T.  Periods 

Persons  and  Transactions  in  Revelation  prior  to  the  Scriptures 

The  Occasion  of  the  N.  T.  Writings  ....... 

Composed  to  meet  the  Wants  of  the  Churches  . 

The  Kingdom  of  God  the  Fundamental  Reality  .  .  .  . 

The  Religious  Consciousness  of  the  Hebrew  People  . 

The  End  of  the  Kingdom  the  Transformation  of  Human  Society 
The  Rise  of  a  Spiritual  and  Universal  Community  . 

Illustration  from  Secular  Life  and  History . 

Obscurity  as  to  the  Beginnings  of  Old  Kingdoms  .  . 

No  Formulas  as  to  the  Scriptures  in  the  Ancient  Creeds  . 

Literary  Questions  as  to  the  Scriptures . 

Organic  Connection  of  Christianity  with  the  O.  T.  Religion 
Open  Historical  Questions  in  O.  T.  Annals  . 

Questions  as  to  the  Rise  and  Successive  Eras  of  the  0.  T.  Religion  . 
Moses  the  Founder  of  Hebrew  Legislation  . 

Critical  Investigation  Consistent  with  Christian  Belief 


322 

322 

322 

323 

323 

324 

324 

325 
327 

327 

328 

328 

329 

331 

332 
332 

334 

335 

335 

336 

336 

337 

338 
340 


CONTENTS  xix 

PAGE 

The  Authority  of  Jesus  and  of  the  Apostles . 342 

Butler  against  dogmatizing  on  the  Authority  of  Scripture  .  .  342 

The  Apostles’  Insight  into  the  Gospel  Progressive  ....  342 

The  Order  of  Things  to  be  believed . 342 


CHAPTER  XIV 

The  Gradualness  of  Revelation 


The  Declaration  of  Jesus  to  this  Effect . 344 

Progress  of  Interpretation  not  Continuance  of  Revelation  .  .  345 

The  Process  of  Historic  Revelation  in  its  Contents  ....  345 

The  Epochs  of  Law  and  of  Grace . 347 

Progress  in  the  Conception  of  God . 348 

Progress  in  the  Doctrine  of  Divine  Providence . 350 

Gradual  Unfolding  of  the  Mercifulness  of  God  .....  352 

The  Lesson  from  Jonah  :  The  Prediction  of  Micah  ....  353 

The  Problem  of  Suffering  .........  353 

The  Discussions  in  Job . 354 

The  Reflections  in  Ecclesiastes . 355 

Light  in  the  Gospel  on  the  Problem  of  Suffering  ....  356 

The  Gradual  Revelation  of  Immortality . 357 

Gradual  Exposition  of  the  Nature  of  Sacrifice  .....  359 

Progress  in  the  Messianic  Conception . 360 

Progressive  Advance  of  Ethics  in  Revealed  Religion  .  .  .  361 

Gradual  Enthronement  of  the  Law  of  Love  .....  362 

Imprecations  in  the  Old  Testament  .......  363 

Accommodation  in  Law  to  Ages  of  Ignorance  .....  364 

Progress  in  the  N.  T.  Revelation . 365 

The  Promise  of  Light  through  the  Spirit  ......  368 

The  Progress  of  the  Apostles  in  Enlightenment  ....  369 

Authority  only  Predicable  of  the  Bible  as  a  Whole  ....  369 


CHAPTER  XY 

The  Relation  of  Christianity  to  Other  Religions 


Classification  of  Religions . 371 

Christian  View  of  Ethnic  Religions . 371 

Christianity  the  Absolute  Religion  .  .  .  .  .  .  .372 

Revelation  the  Self-revelation  of  God  ......  372 

In  Christianity  Alone  a  Full  View  of  the  Perfection  of  God  .  .  373 

Polytheism  and  Monotheism . 373 

Mohammedanism  . . .  .  .  .375 

The  Religion  of  India . 376 


XX 


CONTENTS 


Brahmanism  Pantheistic  ......... 

Buddha  and  Buddhism  ......... 

The  Merits  of  Buddha  and  Buddhism  ...... 

Buddha  in  what  Sense  a  Pessimist  ....... 

Neither  a  Personal  God  nor  Immortality  Parts  of  his  Teaching 
The  Degeneration  of  Buddhism  ....... 

Alleged  Parallelisms  between  Hindoo  Religions  and  Christianity 
Pitness  of  Christianity  to  be  the  Religion  of  Mankind 
The  Religion  of  the  Old  Testament  and  of  the  New,  a  Divine  Revela¬ 
tion  ............ 


PAGE 

377 

377 

379 

380 

380 

381 
381 
383 

383 


APPENDIX 


Note  1  (p.  23). 
Note  2  (p.  49). 
Note  3  (p.  50). 
Note  4  (p.  56). 
Note  5  (p.  66). 
Note  6  (p.  82). 
Note  7  (p.  83). 

Note  8  (p.  86). 
Note  9  (p.  93). 
Note  10  (p.  167). 

Note  11  (p.  172). 
Note  12  (p.  231). 
Note  13  (p.  252). 
Note  14  (p.  254). 

Note  15  (p.  269). 
Note  16  (p.  272). 
Note  17  (p.  280). 
Note  18  (p.  289). 

Note  19  (p.  305). 

Note  20  (p.  320). 
Note  21  (p.  203). 
Note  22  (p.  343). 

Note  23  (p.  343). 


Purther  Discussion  of  the  Origin  of  Religion 
Other  Statements  of  Huxley  on  Teleology  . 

Other  Statements  of  Darwin  on  Design  in  Nature 
Further  Remarks  on  the  Problem  of  Evil  . 
Professor  Fraser  on  the  Spread  of  Pantheism 
Spencer’s  Modification  of  Views  on  Correlation  . 
Science  the  Discovery  of  the  Principles  and  Laws 
of  Nature  ....... 

Matthew  Arnold’s  Conception  of  God  . 

Possible  Force  of  Self-accusation 
The  Trend  of  Philosophy  toward  Objective 
Idealism  ........ 

The  Philosophical  Opinions  of  Huxley 

Unity  of  Authorship  of  the  Acts 

Resell  on  the  Authorship  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  . 

Neander  on  the  Johannine  Authorship  of  the 

Fourth  Gospel . 

Haupt  on  Dislocations  in  the  Fourth  Gospel 
The  Designation  “  Disciple  whom  Jesus  loved” 
Striking  Reminiscence  in  the  Fourth  Gospel 
Professor  Thayer  on  the  Apostolic  Authorship 
of  the  Fourth  Gospel  ..... 

Weizsacker  and  Thayer  on  the  Divinity  of  Christ 
in  the  Gospels  ....... 

The  Subject  of  Discrepancies  in  the  Gospels 
Heathen  and  Ecclesiastical  Miracles  . 

The  Relation  of  Biblical  Teaching  to  Natural 

Science . 

The  Relation  of  Biblical  Criticism  to  Prophecy  . 


387 

394 

396 

397 

398 

399 

399 

401 

403 

404 
406 
408 
410 

410 

411 

412 
412 

412 


412 

413 
421 


435 

447 


THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND 
CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


KaXus,  €<£77,  Xeyeis,  6  Si/x/xta?  •  /cat  eyw  tc  crot  epa>  o  oaropu,  Kal  av 
ode,  rj  ovk  d7ro8e^erat  ra  elprjpeva.  epol  yap  SokcT,  d>  ^uKpares,  7repi 
twv  tolovtuv  laws  uanep  Kal  crot  to  pev  aacfres  elSiva L  iv  TW  vvv  /3iio  rj 
aSvvarov  elvai  rj  iray^aXerrov  tl ,  to  pevTOL  av  ra  Xeyopeva  7rept  avTuv  pit] 
ovyl  7 ravrl  Tpomo  iXey^eLV  Kai  /x?)  rrpoacjiLaTaaOaL ,  rrplv  av  rravTa^fj  ctkottuv 
aTretpr)  tls ,  rravv  paXOaKOV  elvai  avSpos  ‘  SeTv  yap  7 repc  aoTa  tv  ye  tl  tovtwv 
8ta7rpd^ac70at,  77  padew  oVp  t^a  77  evpelv  rj,  el  ravra  aSvvarov,  to v  y ovv 
/3e\TLcrTov  tuv  dvOpoyjrLvcov  Xoywv  Xa/3ovTa  Kal  Svae^eXeyKTOTaTov,  b n 
tovtov  o^ovpevov  uairep  bn  a\e8uis  KivdvvevovTa  8ia7rXev<xai  tov  (3lov,  el 
pfj  tls  SvvaLTO  aacfraXeaTepov  Kal  aKLvdvvoTepov  iirl  /3e/3aLOTepov  o^/xa- 
tos,  Xoyoi)  Oeiov  tlvos,  hcair opevOrjvai.  Kal  Srj  Kal  vvv  eycoye  ovk  irvaL- 
a\vvOyjaopaL  ipeaOaL,  bret St)  Kal  av  Tavra  Xeyecs,  ovd  ipavTov  alTLaaopaL 
iv  varepu  \pov a>  otl  vvv  ovk  ei7rov  a  ipol  SoKet.  Plato,  Plicedo ,  85  [the 
topic  being  ‘  The  Concerns  of  the  Soul.’] 


“  Very  good,  Socrates,”  said  Simmias  ;  “  then  I  will  tell  you  my  dif¬ 
ficulty,  and  Cebes  will  tell  you  his.  I  feel  myself  (and  I  daresay  that 
you  have  the  same  feeling)  how  hard  or  rather  impossible  is  the  attain¬ 
ment  of  any  certainty  about  questions  such  as  these  in  the  present  life. 
And  yet  I  should  deem  him  a  coward  who  did  not  prove  what  is  said 
about  them  to  the  uttermost,  or  whose  heart  failed  him  before  he  had 
examined  them  on  every  side.  For  he  should  persevere  until  he  has 
achieved  one  of  two  things  :  either  he  should  discover,  or  be  taught, 
the  truth  about  them  ;  or,  if  this  be  impossible,  I  would  have  him  take 
the  best  and  most  irrefragable  of  human  theories,  and  let  this  be  the  raft 
upon  which  he  sails  through  life  —  not  without  risk,  as  I  admit,  if  he 
cannot  find  some  word  of  God  which  will  more  surely  and  safely  carry 
him.  And  now,  as  you  bid  me,  I  will  venture  to  question  you,  and  then 
I  shall  not  have  to  reproach  myself  hereafter  with  not  having  said  at  the 
time  what  I  think.  For  when  I  consider  the  matter,  either  alone  or  with 
Cebes,  the  argument  does  certainly  appear  to  me,  Socrates,  to  be  not 
sufficient.”  —  From  the  Version  of  Jowett ,  ed.  S. 

“  The  only  question  concerning  the  truth  of  Christianity  is,  whether  it 
be  a  real  revelation,  not  whether  it  be  attended  with  every  circumstance 
which  we  should  have  looked  for  ;  and  concerning  the  authority  of  Scrip¬ 
ture,  whether  it  be  what  it  claims  to  be,  not  whether  it  be  a  book  of  such 
sort,  and  so  promulgated  ps  weak  men  are  apt  to  fancy  a  book  containing 
divine  revelation  should.  And  therefore  neither  obscurity,  nor  seeming 
inaccuracy  of  style,  nor  various  readings,  nor  early  disputes  about  the 
authors  of  particular  parts,  nor  any  other  things  of  the  like  kind,  though 
they  had  been  much  more  considerable  in  degree  than  they  are,  could 
overthrow  the  authority  of  Scripture  ;  unless  the  prophets,  or  apostles,  or 
our  Lord,  had  promised  that  the  book  containing  the  divine  revelation 
should  be  secure  from  these  things.”  —  Bishop  Butler ,  Analogy,  Part 
II.  chap.  Hi. 


XXII 


THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND 
CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN  :  THE  SELF-REVELATION  OF 

GOD  IN  THE  HUMAN  SOUL 

Theism  signifies  not  only  that  there  is  a  ground  or  cause  of  all 
things,  —  so  much  every  one  who  makes  an  attempt  to  account 
for  himself  and  for  the  world  around  him  admits, — but  also  that 
the  Cause  of  all  things  thus  presupposed  is  a  personal  Being,  of 
whom  an  image  is  presented  in  the  human  mind.  This  image  falls 
short  of  being  adequate,  only  as  it  involves  limits,  —  limits,  how¬ 
ever,  which  cleave  not  to  intelligence  in  itself,  but  simply  to  intel- 
ligence  in  its  finite  form. 

Belief  in  the  personality  of  man,  and  belief  in  the  personality  of 
God,  stand  or  fall  together.  A  glance  at  the  history  of  religion 
would  suggest  that  these  two  beliefs  are  for  some  reason  insepa¬ 
rable.  Where  faith  in  the  personality  of  God  is  weak,  or  is  altogether 
wanting,  as  in  the  case  of  the  pantheistic  religions  of  the  East,  the 
perception  which  men  have  of  their  own  personality  is  found  to  be 
in  an  equal  degree  indistinct.  The  feeling  of  individuality  is  dor¬ 
mant.  The  soul  indolently  ascribes  to  itself  a  merely  phenomenal 
being.  It  conceives  of  itself  as  appearing  for  a  moment,  like  a 
wavelet  on  the  ocean,  to  vanish  again  in  the  all-ingulfing  essence 
whence  it  emerged.  Philosophical  theories  which  substitute  mat¬ 
ter,  or  an  impersonal  Idea,  or  an  “  Unknowable,”  for  the  self- 
conscious  Deity,  likewise  dissipate  the  personality  of  man  as  ordi¬ 
narily  conceived.  If  they  disown  the  tenet  that  God  is  a  Spirit, 
they  decline  with  equal  emphasis  to  affirm  that  man  is  a  spirit. 
The  pantheistic  and  atheistic  schemes  are  in  this  respect  con¬ 
sistent  in  their  logic.  Out  of  man’s  perception  of  his  own  per¬ 
sonal  attributes  arises  the  belief  in  a  personal  God.  On  this  fact 

B  i 


2  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


of  our  own  personality  the  validity  of  the  evidence  for  theism  is 
conditioned. 

The  essential  characteristics  of  personality  are  self-consciousness 
and  self-determination  ;  that  is  to  say,  these  are  the  elements  com¬ 
mon  to  all  spiritual  beings.  Perception,  whether  its  object  be 
material  or  mental,  involves  a  perceiving  subject.  The  “  cogito 
ergo  sum  ”  of  Descartes  is  not  properly  an  argument.  I  do  not 
deduce  my  existence  from  the  fact  of  my  putting  forth  an  act  of 
thought.  The  Cartesian  maxim  simply  denotes  that  in  the  act  the 
agent  is  of  necessity  brought  to  light,  or  disclosed  to  himself.  He 
becomes  cognizant  of  himself  in  the  fluctuating  states  of  thought, 
feeling,  and  volition.  This  apprehension  of  self  is  intuitive.  It  is 
conditioned  op.  experience.  It  is  not  a  possession  of  infancy. 
Yet  it  is  not  an  idea  of  self  that  emerges,  not  a  bare  phenomenon,  as 
some  philosophers  have  imagined  ;  but  the  ego  is  immediately  pre¬ 
sented,  and  there  is  an  inexpugnable  conviction  of  its  reality. 
Idealism,  or  the  doctrine  that  sense-perception  is  a  modification 
of  the  mind  that  is  due  exclusively  to  its  own  nature,  and  is  elicited 
by  nothing  exterior  to  itself,  is,  if  anything,  less  repugnant  to  reason 
than  is  the  denial  of  the  reality  of  the  ego.  Whatever  may  be  true 
of  external  things,  of  self  we  have  an  intuitive  knowledge.  If  I 
judge  that  there  is  no  real  table  before  me  on  which  I  seem  to  be 
writing,  and  no  corporeal  organs  for  seeing  or  touching  it,  I  never¬ 
theless  cannot  escape  the  conviction  that  it  is  /  who  thus  judge. 
To  talk  of  thought  without  a  thinker,  of  belief  without  a  believer, 
is  to  utter  words  void  of  meaning.  The  indivisible  unity  and 
permanent  identity  of  the  ego  are  necessarily  involved  in  self-con¬ 
sciousness.  I  know  myself  as  a  single,  separate  entity.  Personal 
identity  is  presupposed  in  every  act  of  memory.  Go  back  as  far 
as  recollection  can  carry  us,  it  is  the  same  self  who  was  the  subject 
of  all  the  mental  experiences  which  memory  can  recall.  When  I 
was  a  child  I  spake  as  a  child,  I  understood  as  a  child,  I  thought 
as  a  child ;  but  I  who  utter  these  words  am  the  same  being  that  I 
was  a  score  or  threescore  years  ago.  I  look  forward  to  the  future, 
and  know  that  to  me,  and  not  to  another,  the  consequences  of  my 
actions  are  directly  chargeable.  In  the  endless  succession  of 
thoughts,  feelings,  choices,  in  all  the  mutations  of  opinion  and  of 
character,  the  identity  of  the  ego  abides.  From  the  dawn  of  con¬ 
sciousness,  as  soon  as  recollection  is  awake,  to  my  last  breath,  I  do 
not  part  with  myself.  The  abnormal  experience,  in  certain  cases, 


THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN 


3 


of  double  consciousness  no  more  disproves  this  truth  than  occa¬ 
sional  instances  of  hallucination  belie  the  fact  of  sense-perception. 
“  If  we  speak  of  the  mind  as  a  series  of  feelings  which  is  aware  of 
itself  as  past  and  future,  we  are  reduced  to  the  alternative  of  believ¬ 
ing  that  the  mind,  or  ego,  is  something  different  from  any  series  of 
feelings,  or  of  accepting  the  paradox  that  something  which  is  ex 
hypothesi  but  a  series  of  feelings  can  be  aware  of  itself  as  a  series.” 
So  writes  John  Stuart  Mill.  Yet,  on  the  basis  of  this  astounding 
assumption  that  a  series  can  be  self-conscious,  Mill  was  minded  to 
frame  his  philosophy,  and  was  only  deterred  by  the  confessed 
insurmountable  difficulty  of  supposing  memory  with  no  being 
capable  of  remembering. 

The  second  constituent  element  of  personality  is  self-determi¬ 
nation,  This  act  is  likewise  essential  to  distinct  self-conscious¬ 
ness.  Were  there  no  exercise  of  will,  were  the  mind  wholly 
passive  under  all  impressions  from  without,  the  clear  conscious¬ 
ness  of  self  would  never  be  evoked.  In  truth,  self  in  that  case 
would  have  only  an  inchoate  being.1  “  It  is  in  the  will,  in  purpo¬ 
sive  action,  and  particularly  in  our  moral  activity,  as  Fichte,  to 
my  mind,  conclusively  demonstrated,  that  we  lay  hold  upon  real¬ 
ity.  All  that  we  know  might  be  but  a  dream-procession  of 
shadows,  and  the  mind  of  the  dreamer  no  more  than  the  still  mir¬ 
ror  in  which  they  are  reflected,  if,  indeed,  it  were  anything  but 
the  shifting  shadows  themselves.  But  in  the  purposive  ‘  I  will/ 
each  man  is  real,  and  is  immediately  conscious  of  his  own  reality. 
Whatever  else  may  or  may  not  be  real,  this  is  real.  This  is  the 
fundamental  belief,  around  which  scepticism  may  weave  its  maze 
of  doubts  and  logical  puzzles,  but  from  which  it  is  eventually 
powerless  to  dislodge  us,  because  no  argument  can  affect  an  im¬ 
mediate  certainty,  —  a  certainty,  moreover,  on  which  our  whole 
view  of  the  universe  depends.”  2  That  I  originate  my  voluntary 
actions  in  the  sense  that  they  are  not  the  effect  or  unavoidable 
consequence  of  antecedents,  whether  in  the  mind  or  out  of  it,  is  a 
fact  of  consciousness.  This  is  what  is  meant  by  the  freedom  of 
the  will.  It  is  a  definition  of  “  choice.”  Thoughts  spring  up  in 

1  The  view  of  self-consciousness  in  the  foregoing  remarks  is  quite  contrary 
to  the  view,  if  taken  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  terms,  that  “  individuals  may 
be  included  in  other  individuals  ”  and  that  there  is  “  a  genuine  identity  of 
Being  in  various  individuals.” 

2  A.  Seth,  Two  Lectures  on  Theism ,  p.  46. 


4  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


the  mind,  and  succeed  one  another  under  laws  of  association 
whose  absolute  control  is  limited  only  by  the  power  we  have  of 
concentrating  attention  on  one  object  or  another  within  the  hori¬ 
zon  of  consciousness.  Desires  reaching  out  to  various  forms  of 
good  spring  up  unbidden.  They,  too,  are  subject  to  regulation 
through  no  power  inherent  in  themselves.  But  self-determina¬ 
tion,  as  the  very  term  signifies,  is  attended  with  an  irresistible 
conviction  that  the  direction  of  the  will  is  self-imparted.  We 
leave  out  of  account  here  the  nature  of  habit,  or  the  tendency  of 
choice  once  made  or  often  repeated  to  perpetuate  itself.  That  a 
moral  bondage  may  ensue  from  an  abuse  of  liberty  is  conceded. 
The  mode  and  degree  in  which  habit  affects  freedom  is  an  im¬ 
portant  topic ;  but  it  is  one  which  we  do  not  need  to  consider  in 
this  place.1  That  the  will  is  free  —  that  is,  both  exempt  from 
constraint  by  causes  exterior,  which  is  fatalism,  and  not  a  mere 
spontaneity,  shut  up  to  one  path  by  a  force  acting  from  within, 
which  is  determinism  —  is  immediately  evident  to  every  unsophis¬ 
ticated  mind.  We  can  initiate  action  by  the  exercise  of  an 
agency  which  is  neither  irresistibly  controlled  by  motives,  nor 
determined,  without  any  capacity  of  alternative  action,  by  a  prone¬ 
ness  inherent  in  its  nature.  No  truth  is  more  definitely  or  abun¬ 
dantly  sanctioned  by  the  common  sense  of  mankind.  Those  who 
in  theory  reject  it,  continually  assert  it  in  practice.  The  lan¬ 
guages  of  men  would  have  to  be  reconstructed,  the  business  of  the 
world  would  come  to  a  standstill,  if  the  denial  of  the  freedom  of 
the  will  were  to  be  carried  out  with  rigorous  consistency.  This 
freedom  is  not  only  attested  in  consciousness ;  it  is  evinced  by 
that  ability  to  resist  inducements  brought  to  bear  on  the  mind 
which  we  are  conscious  of  exerting.  We  can  withstand  tempta¬ 
tion  to  wrong  by  the  exertion  of  an  energy  which  consciously 
emanates  from  ourselves,  and  which  we  know  that,  the  circum¬ 
stances  remaining  the  same,  we  could  abstain  from  exerting.  If 
motives  have  an  influence ,  that  influence  is  not  tantamount  to 
deterministic  efficiency.  Praise  and  blame,  and  the  punishments 
and  rewards,  of  whatever  kind,  which  imply  these  judgments,  are 

1  Plainly,  circumstances,  including  prior  courses  of  conduct,  may  render 
a  particular  direction  of  choice  more,  or  less,  difficult.  “  There  is  a  growth 
in  moral  freedom”  (Ladd,  Philosophy  of  Conduct,  p.  138).  But  the  difficulty 
thus  arising  is  not  of  a  kind  or  degree  to  destroy  the  capacity  of  freely  deter¬ 
mining  the  action  of  the  will, 


THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN 


5 


plainly  irrational,  save  on  the  tacit  assumption  of  the  autonomy  of 
self.  Deny  free-will,  and  remorse,  as  well  as  self-approbation,  is 
deprived  of  an  essential  ingredient.  It  is  then  impossible  to  dis-  ' 
tinguish  remorse  from  regret.  Ill-desert  becomes  a  fiction.  This 
is  not  to  argue  against  the  necessitarian  doctrine,  merely  on  the 
ground  of  its  bad  tendencies.  It  is  true  that  the  debasement  of 
the  individual,  and  the  wreck  of  social  order,  would  follow  upon 
the  unflinching  adoption  of  the  necessitarian  theory  in  the  judg¬ 
ments  and  conduct  of  men.  Virtue  would  no  more  be  thought  to 
deserve  love  ;  crime  would  no  longer  be  felt  to  deserve  hatred. 
But  independently  of  this  aspect  of  the  subject,  there  is,  to  say 
the  very  least,  a  strong  presumption  against  the  truth  of  a  theorem 
in  philosophy  that  clashes  with  the  common  sense  and  moral  sen¬ 
timents  of  the  race.  The  awe-inspiring  sense  of  individual  respon¬ 
sibility,  the  sting  of  remorse,  the  shame  of  detected  sin,  emotions 
of  moral  reprobation  and  moral  approval,  ought  not  to  be  treated 
as  illusive,  unless  they  can  be  demonstrated  to  be  so.  Here  are 
phenomena  which  no  metaphysical  scheme  can  afford  to  ignore. 
Surely  no  theory  can  ever  look  for  general  acceptance  which  is 
obliged  to  eviscerate  or  explain  away  these  familiar  facts  and  leave 
an  irreconcilable  conflict  in  human  nature. 

How  shall  the  feeling  that  we  are  free  be  accounted  for  if  it  be 
contrary  to  the  fact  ?  Let  us  glance  at  what  famous  necessita¬ 
rians  have  to  say  in  answer  to  this  inquiry.  First,  let  us  hear  one 
of  the  foremost  representatives  of  this  school.  His  solution  is 
one  that  has  often  been  repeated.  “  Men  believe  themselves  to 
be  free,”  says  Spinoza,  “  entirely  from  this,  that,  though  con¬ 
scious  of  their  acts,  they  are  ignorant  of  the  causes  by  which  their 
acts  are  determined.  The  idea  of  freedom,  therefore,  comes  of 
men  not  knowing  the  cause  of  their  acts.” 1  This  is  a  bare  asser¬ 
tion,  confidently  made,  but  void  of  proof.  It  surely  is  not  a  self- 
evident  truth  that  our  belief  in  freedom  arises  in  this  manner. 
Further,  when  we  make  the  motives  preceding  any  particular  act 
of  choice  the  object  of  deliberate  scrutiny,  the  sense  of  freedom  is 
not  in  the  least  weakened.  The  motives  are  distinctly  seen,  yet 
the  consciousness  of  liberty,  or  of  a  pluripotential  power,  remains  in 
full  vigor.  Moreover,  choice  is  not  the  resultant  of  motives,  as  in 
a  case  of  the  composition  of  forces.  One  motive  is  followed,  and 
its  rival  rejected.  Hume  has  another  explanation  of  what  he  con- 

1  Ethics,  P.  ii.  prop.  xxxv. 


6  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


siders  the  delusive  feeling  of  freedom.  “  Our  idea,”  he  says,  “  of 
necessity  and  causation  arises  entirely  from  the  uniformity  observ¬ 
able  in  the  operations  of  nature,  where  similar  objects  are  con¬ 
stantly  conjoined  together,  and  the  mind  is  determined  by  custom 
to  infer  the  one  from  the  appearance  of  the  other.”  1  This  con¬ 
stant  conjunction  of  things  is  all  that  we  know;  but  men  have  “  a 
strong  propensity  ”  to  believe  in  “  something  like  a  necessary  con¬ 
nection  ”  between  the  antecedent  and  the  consequent.  “  When, 
again,  they  turn  their  reflections  towards  the  operations  of  their 
own  minds,  and  feel  no  such  connection  of  the  motive  and  the 
action,  they  are  thence  apt  to  suppose  that  there  is  a  difference 
between  the  effects  which  result  from  material  force,  and  those 
which  arise  from  thought  and  intelligence.” 2  In  other  words,  a 
double  delusion  is  asserted.  First,  the  mind,  for  some  unex¬ 
plained  reason,  falsely  imagines  a  tie  between  the  material  antece¬ 
dent  and  consequent,  and  then,  missing  such  a  bond  between 
motive  and  choice,  it  rashly  infers  freedom.  So  far  from  this 
being  a  true  representation,  it  is  the  mind’s  conscious  exertion  of 
energy  that  enables  it  even  to  conceive  of  a  causal  relation 
between  things  external.  Hume’s  solution  depends  on  the  theory 
that  nothing  properly  called  power  exists.  It  is  assumed  that 
there  is  no  power,  either  in  motives  or  in  the  will.  Hume’s  neces¬ 
sity,  unlike  that  of  Spinoza,  is  mere  uniformity  of  succession, 
choice  following  motive  with  regularity,  but  with  no  nexus  between 
the  two. 

J.  S.  Mill,  adopting  an  identical  theory  of  causation,  from 
which  power  is  eliminated,  lands  in  the  same  general  conclu¬ 
sion,  on  this  question  of  free-will,  as  that  reached  by  Hume. 
Herbert  Spencer  holds  that  the  fact  “  that  every  one  is  at  liberty 
to  do  what  he  desires  to  do  (supposing  there  are  no  external 
hindrances)”  is  the  sum  of  our  liberty.  He  states  that  “  the 
dogma  of  free-will”  is  the  proposition  “that  every  one  is  at  liberty 
to  desire  or  not  to  desire.”  That  is,  he  confounds  choice  and 
volition  with  desire,  denies  the  existence  of  an  elective  power 
distinct  from  the  desires,  and  imputes  a  definition  of  free-will  to 
the  advocates  of  freedom  which  they  unanimously  repudiate.  As 
to  the  feeling  of  freedom,  Mr.  Spencer  says,  “  The  illusion  con- 

1  An  Enquiry  concerning  Human  Understanding,  P.  i.  §  8  (Essays,  ed. 
Green  and  Grose,  vol.  ii.  p.  67). 

2  Ibid.,  p.  75. 


THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN 


7 


sists  in  supposing  that  at  each  moment  the  ego  ...  is  something 
more  than  the  aggregate  of  feelings  and  ideas,  actual  and  nascent, 
which  then  exists.”  1  When  a  man  says  that  he  determined  to 
perform  a  certain  action,  his  error  is  in  supposing  his  conscious 
self  to  have  been  “  something  separate  from  the  group  of  psy¬ 
chical  states  ”  constituting  his  “  psychical  self.”  “  Will  is  nothing 
but  the  general  name  given  to  the  special  feeling  or  feelings  which 
for  a  moment  prevail  over  others.”  2  The  “  composite  psychical 
state  which  excites  the  action  is  at  the  same  time  the  ego  which 
is  said  to  will  the  action.”  The  soul  is  resolved  into  a  group  of 
psychical  states  due  to  “  motor  changes  ”  excited  by  an  impres¬ 
sion  received  from  without.  If  there  is  no  personal  agent,  if  /  is 
a  collective  noun,  meaning  a  “  group  ”  of  sensations,  it  is  a  waste 
of  time  to  argue  that  there  is  no  freedom.  “  What  we  call  a 
mind,”  wrote  Hume  long  ago,  “  is  nothing  but  a  heap  or  collec¬ 
tion  of  different  perceptions,  united  together  by  certain  relations, 
and  supposed,  though  falsely,  to  be  endowed  with  a  perfect  sim¬ 
plicity  and  identity.”  Professor  Huxley,  who  quotes  this  passage, 
would  make  no  other  correction  than  to  substitute  an  assertion  of 
nescience  for  the  positive  denial.  He  would  rather  say,  “  that  we 
know  nothing  more  of  the  mind  than  that  it  is  a  series  of  percep¬ 
tions.”  3 

Before  commenting  on  this  definition  of  the  mind,  which  robs  it 
of  its  unity,  it  is  worth  while  to  notice  what  account  the  advocates 
of  necessity  have  to  give  of  the  feelings  of  praise  and  blame,  ten¬ 
ants  of  the  soul  which  appear  to  claim  a  right  to  be  there,  and 
which  it  is  very  hard  even  for  speculative  philosophers  to  dislodge. 
On  this  topic  Spinoza  is  remarkably  chary  of  explanation.  “  I 
designate  as  gratitude ,”  he  says,  “  the  feeling  we  experience 
from  the  acting  of  another,  done,  as  we  imagine,  to  gratify  us ; 
and  aversion ,  the  uneasy  sense  we  experience  when  we  imagine 

1  Principles  of  Psychology,  vol.  i.  p.  500. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  503.  It  is  sometimes  said  that  “  Hamlet  is  left  out  of  the  play,” 
but  this  is  seldom  done,  as  in  this  instance,  by  an  explicit  avowal.  It  recalls 
the  lines  of  Goethe  :  — 

“  Wer  will  was  Lebendigs  erkennen  und  beschreiben, 

Sucht  erst  den  Geist  herauszutreiben, 

Dann  hat  er  die  Theile  in  seiner  Hand, 

Fehlt,  leider  !  nur  das  geistige  Band.” 

3  Huxley’s  Hume ,  with  Helps  to  the  Study  of  Berkeley ,  p.  75 ;  also  Collected 
Essays,  vol.  vi. 


8  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


anything  done  with  a  view  to  our  disadvantage;  and,  whilst  we 
praise  the  former,  we  are  disposed  to  blame  the  latter.”  1  What 
does  Spinoza  mean  by  the  phrase  “  with  a  view  to  our  advantage  ” 
or  “disadvantage”?  As  the  acts  done,  in  either  case,  were 
l  unavoidable  on  the  part  of  the  doer,  —  as  much  so  as  the  circula¬ 
tion  of  blood  in  his  veins,  —  it  is  impossible  to  see  any  reasonable- 
1  ness  in  praise  or  blame,  thankfulness  or  resentment.  Why  should 
we  resent  the  stab  of  an  assassin  more  than  the  kick  of  a  horse? 
Why  should  we  be  any  more  grateful  to  a  benefactor  than  we  are 
to  the  sun  for  shining  on  us?  If  the  sun  were  conscious  of  shin¬ 
ing  on  us,  and  of  shining  on  us  “  with  a  view  ”  to  warm  us,  in 
Spinoza’s  meaning  of  the  phrase,  but  with  not  the  least  power  to 
do  otherwise,  how  would  that  consciousness  found  a  claim  to  our 
gratitude  ?  What  we  are  looking  for  is  a  ground  of  approbation 
i  or  condemnation.  When  Spinoza  proceeds  to  define  “  just  ”  and 
“unjust,”  “sin”  and  “merit,”  he  broaches  a  theory  not  dissimilar 
to  that  of  Hobbes,  that  there  is  no  natural  law  but  the  desires,  that 
“  in  the  state  of  nature  there  is  nothing  done  that  can  properly  be 
characterized  as  just  or  unjust,”  that  in  “  the  natural  state,”  prior 
to  the  organization  of  society,  “  faults,  offences,  crimes,  cannot  be 
conceived.”  2  As  for  repentance,  Spinoza  does  not  hesitate  to 
lay  down  the  thesis  that  “  repentance  is  not  a  virtue,  or  does  not 
arise  from  reason ;  but  he  who  repents  of  any  deed  he  has  done  is 
twice  miserable  or  impotent.” 3  Penitence  is  defined  as  “  sorrow 
accompanying  the  idea  of  something  we  believe  we  have  done  of 
free-will.”  4  It  mainly  depends,  he  tells  us,  on  education.  Since 
free-will  is  an  illusive  notion,  penitence  must  be  inferred  to  be  in  the 
same  degree  irrational.  To  these  opinions,  not  less  superficial  than 
they  are  immoral,  the  ablest  advocates  of  necessity  are  driven  when 
they  stand  face  to  face  with  the  phenomena  of  conscience. 

Mill,  in  seeking  to  vindicate  the  consistency  of  punishment  with 
his  doctrine  of  determinism,  maintains  that  it  is  right  to  punish ; 
first,  as  penalty  tends  to  restrain  and  cure  an  evil-doer,  and  sec¬ 
ondly,  as  it  tends  to  secure  society  from  aggression.  “  It  is  just 
to  punish,”  he  says,  “  so  far  as  it  is  necessary  for  this  purpose,” 
for  the  security  of  society,  “  exactly  as  it  is  just  to  put  a  wild  beast 
to  death  (without  unnecessary  suffering)  for  the  same  object.” 5 

1  Ethics ,  P.  iii.  prop.  xxix.  schol.  2  Ibid.,  P.  iv.  prop,  xxxvii.  schol.  2. 

3  Ibid.,  P.  iv.  prop.  liv.  4 Ibid .,  P.  iii.  def.  27.  6  Examination  of  Sir 

W.  Hamilton'1  s  Philosophy ,  vol.  ii.  p.  292. 


THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN 


9 


It  will  hardly  be  asserted  by  any  one  that  a  brute  deserves  punish¬ 
ment,  in  the  proper  and  accepted  meaning  of  the  term.  Surely 
to  behead  a  man  requires  a  defence  different  in  kind  from  that 
required  to  crush  a  mosquito.  Later,  Mill  attempts  to  find  a  basis 
for  a  true  responsibility ;  but  in  doing  so  he  virtually,  though  un¬ 
wittingly,  surrenders  his  necessitarian  theory.  “  The  true  doctrine 
of  the  causation  of  human  actions  maintains,”  he  says,  “  that  not 
only  our  . conduct,  but  our  character,  is  in  part  amenable  to  our 
will ;  that  we  can,  by  employing  the  proper  means,  improve  our 
character ;  and  that  if  our  character  is  such,  that,  while  it  remains 
what  it  is,  it  necessitates  us  to  do  wrong,  it  will  be  just  to  apply 
motives  which  will  necessitate  us  to  strive  for  its  improvement, 
and  to  ejnancipate  ourselves  from  the  other  necessity.” 1  Here, 
while  verbally  holding  to  his  theory  of  the  deterministic  agency 
of  motives,  he  introduces  the  phrases  which  I  have  put  in  italics, 
—  phrases  which  carry  in  them  the  idea  of  free  personal  endeavor, 
and  exclude  that  of  determinism.  “  The  true  doctrine  of  neces¬ 
sity,”  says  Mill,  “while  maintaining  that  our  character  is  formed 
by  our  circumstances,  asserts  at  the  same  time  that  our  desires 
can  do  much  to  alter  our  circumstances.”  But  how  about  our 
control  over  our  desires?  Have  we  any  more  control,  direct  or 
indirect,  over  them  than  over  our  circumstances?  If  not,  “  the^ 
true  doctrine  of  necessity  ”  no  more  founds  responsibility  than 
does  the  naked  fatalism  which  Mill  disavows.  It  is  not  uncom¬ 
mon  for  necessitarian  writers,  unconsciously  it  may  be,  to  draw  a 
veil  over  their  theory  by  affirming  that  actions  are  the  necessary 
fruit  of  a  character  already  formed ;  thus  leaving  room  for  the 
supposition,  that,  in  the  forming  of  that  character,  the  will  exerted 
at^^rne  JimeL- am  independent  agency.  But  such  an  agency,  it 
need  not  be  said,  at  whatever  point  it  is  placed,  is  incompatible 
with  their  main  doctrine. 

The  standing  argument  for  necessity,  drawn  out  by  Hobbes, 
Collins,  et  id  omne  genus,  is  based  on  the  law  of  cause  and  effect. 
It  is  alleged,  that  if  motives  are  not  efficient  in  determining  the 
will,  then  an  event  —  namely,  the  particular  direction  of  the  will 
in  a  case  of  choice,  or  the  choice  of  one  object  rather  than  an¬ 
other  —  is  without  a  cause.  This  has  been  supposed  to  be  an 
invincible  argument.  In  truth,  however,  the  event  in  question  is 
not  without  a  cause  in  the  sense  that  would  be  true  of  an  event 

1  Ibid.,  vol.  ii.  p.  299. 


10  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


wholly  disconnected  from  an  efficient  antecedent,  —  of  a  world, 
for  example,  springing  into  being  without  a  Creator.  The  mind 
is  endued  with  the  power  to  act  in  either  of  two  directions,  the 
proper  circumstances  being  present ;  and,  whichever  way  it  may 
actually  move,  its  motion  is  its  own,  the  result  of  its  own  power. 
That  the  mind  is  not  subject  to  the  law  of  causation  which  holds 
good  elsewhere  than  in  the  sphere  of  intelligent,  voluntary  action, 
is  the  very  thing  asserted.  Self- activity,  initial  motion,  is  the  dis¬ 
tinctive  attribute  of  spiritual  agents.  The  prime  error  of  the 
necessitarian  is  in  unwarrantably  assuming  that  the  mind  in  its 
voluntary  action  is  subject  to  the  same  law  which  prevails  in  the 
realm  of  things  material  and  unintelligent.  This  opinion  is  not 
only  false,  but  shallow.  For  where  do  we  first  get  our  notion  of 
power  or  causal  energy?  Where  but  from  the  exercise  of  our 
own  wills?  If  we  exerted  no  voluntary  agency,  we  should  have 
no  idea  of  causal  efficiency.  Being  outside  of  the  circle  of  our 
experience,  causation  would  be  utterly  unknown.  Necessitarians, 
in  the  ranks  of  whom  are  found  at  the  present  day  not  a  few 
students  of  physical  science,  frequently  restrict  their  observa¬ 
tion  to  things  without  themselves,  and,  having  formulated  a  law  of 
causation  for  the  objects  with  which  they  are  chiefly  conversant, 
they  forthwith  extend  it  over  the  mind,  —  an  entity,  despite  its 
close  connection  with  matter,  toto  genere  different.  They  should  re¬ 
member  that  the  very  terms  “  force,”  “  power,”  “  energy,”  “  cause,” 
are  only  intelligible  from  the  experience  we  have  of  the  exercise 
of  will.  They  are  applied  in  some  modified  sense  to  things  ex¬ 
ternal.  But  we  are  immediately  cognizant  of  no  cause  but  will, 
and  the  nature  of  that  cause  must  be  learned  from  consciousness j 
it  can  never  be  learned  from  an  inspection  of  things  heterogene¬ 
ous  to  the  mind,  and  incapable  by  themselves  of  imparting  to  it 
the  faintest  notion  of  power. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  the  doctrine  of  the  liberty  of  the  will  is 
self-destructive.  The  will,  it  is  said,  is  reduced  to  a  blind  power, 
dissevered  from  intelligence  and  freedom.  But  “  freedom  of  the 
will  ”  is  a  phrase  which  means  “  freedom  of  self,”  freedom  of  the 
mind,  an  indivisible  unit  —  which  includes  intelligence  and  sen¬ 
sibility,  yet  is  enslaved  to  neither. 

But  it  is  complained  that  if  the  operations  of  the  will  are  not 
governed  by  law,  psychologic  science  is  impossible.  “  Psychical 
changes,”  says  Herbert  Spencer,  “  either  conform  to  law,  or  they 


THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN 


II 


do  not.  If  they  do  not  conform  to  law,  this  work,  in  common 
with  all  works  on  the  subject,  is  sheer  nonsense ;  no  science  of 
psychology  is  possible.  If  they  do  conform  to  law,  there  cannot 
be  any  such  thing  as  free-will.” 1  Were  uniformity  found,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  to  characterize  the  self-determinations  of  the  mind, 
even  then  necessity  would  not  be  proved.  Suppose  the  mind 
always  to  determine  itself  in  strict  conformity  with  reason ;  this 
would  not  prove  constraint,  or  disprove  freedom.  If  it  were 
shown,  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  mind  always  chooses  in  the 
same  way,  the  antecedents  being  precisely  the  same,  neither  fatal¬ 
ism  nor  determinism  would  be  thereby  demonstrated.  If  it  be 
meant,  by  the  conformity  of  the  will  to  law,  that  no  man  has  the 
power  to  choose  otherwise  than  he  actually  chooses ;  that,  to  take 
an  example  from  moral  conduct,  no  thief,  or  seducer,  or  assassin, 
was  capable  of  any  such  previous  exercise  of  will  as  would  have 
caused  him  to  abstain  from  the  crimes  which  he  has  perpe¬ 
trated,  —  then  every  reasonable,  not  to  say  righteous,  person  will 
deny  the  proposition.  The  alternative  that  a  work  on  psychology, 
so  far  as  it  rests  on  a  theory  of  fatalism,  is  “  sheer  nonsense,”  it 
is  far  better  to  endure  than  to  fly  in  the  face  of  common  sense 
and  of  the  conscience  of  the  race.  But  psychology  has  left  to  it 
a  wide  enough  field  without  the  need  of  denying  room  for  moral 
liberty.  A  book  of  ethics  which  is  constructed  on  the  assumption 
that  the  free  and  responsible  nature  of  man  is  an  illusive  notion 
is  worth  no  more  than  the  postulate  on  which  it  is  founded.2 

Besides  the  argument  against  freedom  from  the  alleged  incon-  \ 
sistency  with  the  law  of  causation  which  it  involves,  there  is  a  sec¬ 
ond  objection  which  is  frequently  urged.  We  are  reminded  that 


1  Psychology,  vol.  i.  p.  621.  This  passage  is  not  in  the  4th  ed.  See  vol.  ii.  p. 
503.  The  doctrine  remains  the  same.  “  That  the  ego  is  the  passing  group  of 
feelings  and  ideas,  ...  is  true  if  we  include  the  body  and  its  functions,”  p. 
503.  The  action  is  determined  by  a  “  certain  composite  mass  of  emotion 
and  thought,”  p.  501. 

2  Of  course,  Spencer  is  not  alone  in  these  pleas  for  determinism.  For  ex¬ 
ample,  Wundt,  who  holds  to  the  absolute  sway  of  causality,  “  psychical 
causality,”  in  the  specification  of  choice,  complains  that  without  it  there  can 
be  “  no  psychology,  no  science  of  mind  ”  (  The  Principles  of  Morality ,  etc., 
p.  53).  Wundt,  like  Mill,  is  anxious  to  remind  his  readers  that  “motives  are 
effects  as  well  as  causes,”  and  that  one’s  “  whole  previous  history  ”  lies  back  of 
any  particular  choice  (pp.  10,  38).  But,  as  with  Mill,  in  these  prior  choices, 
of  which  character  is  the  result,  no  real  freedom  of  self  is  presupposed. 


12  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


there  is  an  order  of  history.  Events,  we  are  told,  within  the  sphere 
of  voluntary  agency  succeed  each  other  with  regularity  of  sequence. 
We  can  predict  what  individuals  will  do  with  a  considerable  degree 
of  confidence,  —  with  as  much  confidence  as  could  be  expected 
considering  the  complexity  of  the  phenomena.  There  is  a  prog¬ 
ress  of  a  community  and  of  mankind  which  evinces  a  reign  of  law 
within  the  compass  of  personal  action.  The  conduct  of  one  gen- 
'  eration  is  shaped  by  the  conduct  of  that  which  precedes  it. 

That  there  is  a  plan  in  the  course  of  human  affairs,  all  believers 
in  Providence  hold.  History  does  not  present,  a  chaotic  series  of 
occurrences,  but  a  system,  a  progressive  order,  to  be  more  or  less 
clearly  discerned.  The  inference,  however,  that  the  wills  of  men 
are  destitute  of  self-activity,  is  rashly  drawn.  If  it  were  thought 
that  we  are  confronted  with  two  apparently  antagonistic  truths, 
whose  point  of  reconciliation  is  beyond  our  ken,  the  situation 
would  have  its  parallels  in  other  branches  of  human  inquiry.  We 
should  be  justified  in  holding  to  each  truth  on  its  own  grounds, 
each  being  sufficiently  verified,  and  in  waiting  for  the  solution  of 
the  problem.  But  the  whole  objection  can  be  shown  to  rest,  in 
great  part,  on  misunderstanding  of  the  doctrine  of  free-will.  F£££-' 
dom  does  not  involve,  of  necessity,  a  haphazard  departure  from 
regularity  in  the  actual  choices  of  men  under  the  same  circum- 
p  stances.  As  already  remarked,  that  men  do  act  in  one  way,  in 
the  presence  of  given  circumstances,  does  not  prove  that  they 
must  so  act.  Again,  those  who  propound  this  objection  fail  to 
discern  the  real  points  along  the  path  of  developing  character 
where  freedom  is  exercised.  They  often  fail  to  perceive  that 
there  are  habits  of  will  which  take  their  rise  in  self-determination, 
—  habits  for  which  men  are  responsible  so  far  as  they  are  morally 
right  or  wrong,  and  which  exist  within  them  as  abiding  purposes 
or  voluntary  principles  of  conduct.  Of  a  man  who  loves  money  bet¬ 
ter  than  anything  else,  it  may  be  predicted  that  he  will  seize  upon 
any  occasion  that  offers  itself  to  make  an  advantageous  bargain. 
But  this  love  of  money  is  a  voluntary  principle  which  he  can  curb, 
and,  influenced  by  moral  considerations,  supersede  by  a  higher 
motive  of  conduct.  The  fact  of  habit,  voluntary  habit,  springing 
ultimately  from  choice,  practically  circumscribes  the  variableness 
of  action,  and  contributes  powerfully  to  the  production  of  a  cer¬ 
tain  degree  of  uniformity  of  conduct,  on  which  prediction  as  to. 
what  individuals  will  do  is  founded.  But  all  predictions  in  regard 


THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN 


13 


to  the  future  conduct  of  men,  or  societies  of  men,  are  liable  to 
fail,  not  merely  because  of  the  varied  and  complicated  data  in  the 
case  of  human  action,  but  because  new  influences,  not  in  the  least 
coercive,  may  still  set  at  defiance  all  statistical  vaticinations.  A 
religious  reform,  like  that  of  John  Wesley,  gives  rise  to  an  essen¬ 
tial  alteration  of  the  conduct  of  multitudes,  changes  the  face  of 
society  in  extensive  districts,  and  upsets,  for  example,  previous  Cal¬ 
culations  as  to  the  percentage  of  crime  to  be  expected  in  the  re¬ 
gions  affected.  The  seat  of  moral  freedom  is  deep  in  the  radical 
self-determinations  by  which  the  chief  ends  of  conduct,  the  mo¬ 
tives  of  life  in  the  aggregate,  are  fixed.  Kant  had  a  profound  per¬ 
ception  of  this  truth,  although  he  erred  in  limiting  absolutely  the 
operations  of  free-will  to  the  “noumenal”  sphere,  and  in  relegat¬ 
ing  all  moral  conduct,  except  the  primal  choice,  to  the  realm  of 
phenomenal  and  therefore  necessary  action.  A  theist  finds  no 
difficulty  in  ascribing  moral  evil  wholly  to  the  will  of  the  creature, 
and  in  accounting  for  the  orderly  succession  of  events,  or  the  plan 
of  history,  by  the  overruling  agency  of  God,  which  has  no  need  to 
interfere  with  human  liberty,  or  to  constrain  or  to  crush  the  free 
and  responsible  nature  of  man,  but  knows  how  to  pilot  the  race 
onward,  be  the  rocks  and  cross-currents  where  and  what  they  may 
be. 

Self-consciousness  and  self-determination,  each  involving  the 
other,  are  the  essential  peculiarities  of  mind.  With  self-determi¬ 
nation  is  inseparably  connected  purpose.  The  intelligent  action 
of  the  will  is  for  an  end ;  and  this  preconceived  end  —  which  is 
last  in  the  order  of  time,  although  first  in  thought  —  is  termed  the 
final  cause.  It  is  the  goal  to  which  the  volitions  dictated  by  it 
point  and  lead.  So  simple  an  act  of  will  as  the  volition  to  lift  a 
finger  is  for  a  purpose.  The  thought  of  the  result  to  be  effected 
precedes  that  efficient  act  of  the  will  by  which,  in  some  inscrut¬ 
able  way,  the  requisite  muscular  motion  is  produced.  I  purpose 
to  send  a  letter  to  a  friend.  There  is  a  plan  present  in  thought 
before  it  is  resolved  upon,  or  converted  into  an  intention,  and 
prior  to  the  several  exertions  of  voluntary  power  by  which  it  is 
accomplished.  Guided  by  this  plan,  I  enter  my  library,  open  a 
drawer,  find  the  proper  writing-materials,  compose  the  letter,  seal 
it,  and  despatch  it.  Here  is  a  series  of  voluntary  actions  done  in 
pursuance  of  a  plan  which  antedated  them  in  consciousness,  and 
through  them  is  realized.  The  movements  of  brain  and  muscle 


14  the  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


which  take  place  in  the  course  of  the  proceeding  are  subservient 
to  the  conscious  plan  by  which  all  the  power  employed  in  realiz¬ 
ing  it  is  directed.  This  is  rational  voluntary  action ;  it  is  action 
for  an  end.  In  this  way  the  whole  business  of  human  life  is  car¬ 
ried  forward.  All  that  is  termed  “art,”  in  the  broadest  meaning 
of  the  word,  —  that  is,  all  that  is  not  included  either  in  the  prod¬ 
ucts  of  material  nature,  which  the  wit  and  power  of  men  can 
neither  produce  nor  modify,  or  in  the  strictly  involuntary  states 
of  mind  with  their  physical  effects,  —  comes  into  being  in  the  way 
described.  The  conduct  of  men  in  their  individual  capacity,  the 
organization  of  families  and  states,  the  government  of  nations,  the 
management  of  armies,  the  diversified  pursuits  of  industry,  what¬ 
ever  is  because  men  have  willed  it  to  be,  is  due  to  self-determina¬ 
tion  involving  design. 

The  opinion  has  not  wholly  lacked  supporters  that  man  is  an 
automaton.  All  that  he  does  they  have  ascribed  to  a  chain  of 
causes  wholly  embraced  within  a  circle  of  nervous  and  muscular 
movements.  Some,  finding  it  impossible  to  ignore  consciousness, 
have  contented  themselves  with  denying  to  non-material  states 
causal  agency.  On  this  view  it  follows  that  the  plan  to  take  a 
journey,  to  build  a  house,  or  to  do  anything  else  which  presup¬ 
poses  design,  has  no  influence  whatever  upon  the  result.  The 
same  efforts  would  be  produced  if  we  were  utterly  unconscious  of 
any  intention  to  bring  them  to  pass.  The  design,  not  being  cred¬ 
ited  with  the  least  influence  or  control  over  the  instruments  through 
which  the  particular  end  is  reached,  might  be  subtracted  without 
affecting  the  result.  Since  consciousness  neither  originates  nor 
transmits  motion,  and  thus  exerts  no  power,  the  effects  of  what  we 
call  voluntary  agency  would  take  place  as  well  without  it.  This 
creed,  when  it  is  once  clearly  defined,  is  not  likely  to  win  many 
adherents.1 

The  scientific  doctrine  of  the  conservation  of  energy  is  entirely 
consistent  with  the  freedom  of  the  will  and  with  the  reciprocal 
influence  of  mind  and  body.  Whether  the  general  notion  of 
energy  as  inhering  in  material  bodies  and  transmissible  is  any¬ 
thing  but  a  scientific  metaphor,  it  is  needless  here  to  discuss. 
The  doctrine  is,  that  as  the  sum  of  matter  remains  the  same,  so  is 

1  For  a  clear  exposition  of  the  consequences  of  denying  the  agency  of  mind, 
see  Herbert,  The  Realistic  Assumptions  of  Modern  Science ,  etc.,  pp.  103  seq., 
128  seq. 


THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN 


15 


it  with  the  sum  of  energy,  potential  or  in  action,  in  any  body  or 
system  of  bodies.  Energy  may  be  transmitted  ;  that  is,  lost  in  one 
body,  it  reappears  undiminished  in  another,  or,  ceasing  in  one 
form,  it  is  exerted  in  another,  and  this  according  to  definite  ratios. 
In  other  words,  there  is  a  correlation  of  the  physical  forces. 
While  this  is  believed  to  be  true,  there  is  not  the  slightest  evi¬ 
dence  that  mental  action  is  caused  by  the  transmitting  of  energy 
from  the  physical  system.  Nor  is  there  any  proof  that  the  mind 
transfers  additional  energy  to  matter.  Nor,  again,  is  there  the 
slightest  evidence  that  mental  action  is  correlated  with  physical. 
That  mental  action  is  affected  by  physical  change  is  evident. 
That  the  mind  acts  upon  the  brain,  modifying  its  state,  exerting  a 
directive  power  upon  the  nerve-centres,  is  equally  certain.  The 
doctrine  of  conservation,  as  its  best  expounders  —  Clerk  Maxwell, 
for  example  —  have  perceived,  does  not  militate  in  the  least 
against  the  limited  control  of  the  human  will  and  the  supreme 
control  of  the  divine. 

Attending  the  inward  assurance  of  freedom  is  the  consciousness 
of  moral  law.  While  I  know  that  I  can  do  or  forbear,  I  feel  that  I 
ought  or  ought  not.  The  desires  of  human  nature  are  various. 
They  go  forth  to  external  good,  which  reaches  the  mind  through 
the  channel  of  the  senses.  They  go  out  also  to  objects  less  tangi¬ 
ble,  as  power,  fame,  knowledge,  the  esteem  of  others.  But  dis¬ 
tinct  from  these  diverse,  and,  it  may  be,  conflicting  desires,  a  law 
manifests  itself  in  consciousness,  and  lays  its  authoritative  mandate 
on  the  will.  The  requirement  of  that  law  in  the  concrete  may  be 
differently  conceived.  It  may  be  grossly  misapprehended.  But 
the  feeling  of  obligation  is  an  ineradicable  element  of  our  being. 
It  is  universal,  or  as  nearly  so  as  the  perception  of  beauty  or  any 
other  essential  attribute  of  the  soul.  For  an  ethical  theory  to  dis¬ 
pense  with  it  is  suicide.  It  implies  an  ideal  or  end  which  the  will 
is  bound  freely  to  realize.  Be  this  end  clearly  or  dimly  discerned, 
and  though  it  be  in  a  great  degree  misconceived,  its  existence  is 
implied  in  the  imperative  character  of  the  law  within.  The  con¬ 
fusion  that  may  arise  in  respect  to  the  contents  of  the  law  and  the 
end  to  which  the  law  points  does  not  disprove  the  reality  of  either. 
An  unenlightened  and  perverted  conscience  is  still  a  conscience. 

Shall  the  source  and  ground  of  nature  and  self-consciousness 
alike  be  placed  in  the  object,  the  world  without?  This  cannot  be. 


1 6  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


“  Nature  cannot  give  that  which  she  does  not  herself  possess.  She 
cannot  give  birth  to  that  which  is  toto  genere  dissimilar.”  Nature 
can  take  no  such  leap.  A  new  beginning  on  a  plane  above  Nature 
it  is  beyond  the  power  of  Nature  to  originate.  Self-consciousness 
can  only  be  referred  to  self-consciousness  as  its  author  and  source. 

*  It  can  have  its  ground  in  nothing  that  is  itself  void  of  consciousness. 
Only  a  personal  Power  above  Nature  can  account  for  self-conscious¬ 
ness  in  man.  It  presupposes  an  original  and  unconditioned, 
because  original,  self-consciousness.  The  spark  of  a  divine  fire 
is  deposited  in  Nature ;  it  is  in  Nature,  but  not  of  it,v 

Thus  the  consciousness  of  God  enters  inseparably  into  the  con¬ 
sciousness  of  self  as  its  hidden  background.1  “  The  descent  into 
our  inmost  being  is  at  the  same  time  an  ascent  to  God.”  All  pro¬ 


found  reflection  in  which  the  soul  withdraws  from  the  world  to 


contemplate  its  own  being  brings  us  to  God,  in  whom  we  live  and 
move.  We  are  conscious  of  God  in  a  more  intimate  sense  than  we 
are  conscious  of  finite  things.  As  they  themselves  are  derived,  so 
is  our  knowledge  of  them. 

In  order  to  know  a  limit  as  a  limit,  as  it  is  often  said,  we  must 
already  be  in  some  sense  beyond  it.  “We  should  not  be  able,” 
says  Julius  Muller,  “  in  the  remotest  degree  to  surmise  that  our 
personality  —  that  in  us  whereby  we  are  exalted,  not  in  degree 
only,  but  in  kind,  above  every  other  existence  —  is  limited,  were  not 
the  consciousness  of  the  Absolute  Personality  originally  stamped, 
however  obscure  and  however  effaced  the  outlines  may  often  be, 
upon  our  souls.”  It  is  in  the  knowledge  of  the  Infinite  One  that 
we  know  ourselves  as  finite.2 

Moreover,  to  self-determination,  the  second  element  of  person- 


1  Shall  the  conviction  of  the  being  of  God  that  springs  up  in  the  soul  in 
connection  with  feeling  of  dependence  be  regarded  as  the  product  of  infer¬ 
ence?  It  is  nearer  the  truth  to  say  that  the  recognition  of  God,  more  or  less 
obscure,  is  something  involved  and  even  presupposed  in  this  feeling.  How 
can  there  be  a  sense  of  self  as  dependent,  unless  there  be  an  underlying  sense 
of  a  somewhat,  however  vaguely  apprehended,  on  which  we  depend?  The 
one  feeling  is  an  implicate  of  the  other. 

The  error  of  many  who  have  too  closely  followed  Schleiermacher  is  in 
representing  the  feeling  of  dependence  as  void  of  an  intellectual  element. 
Ulrici  and  some  other  German  writers  avoid  this  mistake  by  using  the  term 
“  Gefiihls-perception  ”  to  designate  that  state  of  mind  in  which  feeling  is  the 
predominant  element,  and  perception  is  still  rudimental  and  obscure. 

2  See  J.  Muller,  Lehre  v.  d.  Siinde,  vol.  i.  pp.  ioi  seq. 


THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN 


1 7 


ality,  like  self-consciousness,  a  limit  is  consciously  prescribed.  5 
The  limit  is  the  moral  law  to  which  the  will  is  bound,  though  not 
necessitated,  to  conform.  We  find  this  law  within  us,  a  rule  for 
the  regulation  of  the  will.  It  is  not  merely  independent  of  the 
will —  this  is  true  of  the  emotions  generally  —  it  speaks  with 
authority.  It  is  a  voice  of  command  and  of  prohibition.  This 
rule  man  spontaneously  identifies  with  the  will  of  Him  who  reveals 
himself  in  consciousness  as  the  Author  of  his  being.  The  uncon¬ 
ditional  nature  of  the  demand  which  we  are  conscious  that  the 
moral  law  makes  upon  us,  against  all  rebellious  desires  and  pas¬ 
sions,  in  the  face  of  our  own  antagonistic  will,  can  only  be  ex¬ 
plained  by  identifying  it  thus  with  a_highfir  Will  from  which  it 
emanates.  I^Lself-consciousness  God  reveals  his_being ;  in  con- 
science  he  reveals  his  authority  and  his  will  concerning  man. 
Through  this  recognition  of  the  law  of  conscience  as  the  will  of 
God  in  whom  we  live,  morality  and  religion  coalesce. 

Sir  William  Hamilton,  in  pointing  out  the  basis  of  theism,1  sets 
in  contrast  the  natural  world,  in  which  the  phenomena  “  are  pro¬ 
duced  and  reproduced  in  the  same  invariable  succession,”  “in  the 
chain  of  physical  necessity,”  with  the  -phenomena  of  man  in  whom 
intelligence  is  a  “  free  power,”  being  subject  only  to  the  law  of 
duty,  which  he  can  carry  into  effect.  This  proves  that  in  the 
order  of  existence,  as  we  experience  it  in  ourselves,  intelligence  is 
§npr.eme,  and  as  far  as  its  liberty  extends  “  is  independent  of 
necessity  and  matter.”  By  analogy,  Hamilton  argues,  we  are 
authorized  to  carry  into  the  order  of  the  universe  the  relation 
which  we  find  in  the  human  constitution.  The  argument  is  sound, 
for  it  is  on  the  path  of  Analogy  that  science  has  made  its  advance. 
It  is  not  reflection,  however,  and  reasoning,  but  that  immediate 
self-revelation  of  God  in  the  human  mind  which,  as  explained 
above,  is  at  the  root  of  theistic  faith. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  dictates  of  conscience,  so  far  as  its  action 
is  sound  and  normal,  express  the  moral  preferences,  that  is  to  say, 
the  character,  of  God.  His  holiness  is  evidenced  in  the  condem¬ 
nation  uttered  within  us  of  purposes  and  practices  at  variance  with 
righteousness.  The  love  pf..jGod  is  expressed  in  the  mandate  of 
conscience  to  exercise  just  and  kindly  feelings,  to  act  conformably 
taJ±L£m  and  to  cherish  a  comprehensive  good  will.  Whenever 
conscience  is  so  awakened  and  enlightened  as  to  discern  that  an 

1  Metaphysics,  pp.  21  seq. 
c 


1 8  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


unselfish  spirit  is  the  law  of  life,  the  revelation  in  the  soul  is 
complete  that  God  is  Love. 

Not  through  the  channel  of  intelligence  and  of  conscience  alone, 
but  also  through  that  of  sensibility  and  affection,  is  God  manifest 
io  the  soul.  Religion  is  communion  with  God.  If  we  look  atten¬ 
tively  at  religion  in  its  pure  and  elevated  form,  as,  for  example,  it 
finds  expression  in  Psalms  of  the  Old  Testament,  we  shall  best  per¬ 
ceive  its  constituent  elements,  and  the  sources  within  us  from 
which  it  springs.  We  shall  find  that  along  with  the  sense  of  obli¬ 
gation  and  of  dependence  in  which  the  existence  of  a  Supreme 
Being  is  recognized,  there  is  intimately  connected  a  native  pro¬ 
clivity  to  rest  upon,  and  hold  converse  with,  Him  in  whom  we 
i  live.  The  tendency  to  commune  with  Him  is  an  essential  part  of 
|  the  religious  constitution  of  man.  To  pray  to  Him  for  help,  to 
lean  on  Him  for  support,  to  worship  Him,  are  native  and  sponta¬ 
neous  movements  of  the  human  spirit.  Man  feels  himself  drawn 
to  the  Being  who  reveals  Himself  to  him  in  the  primitive  operations 
of  intelligence  and  conscience,  and  inspires  him  with  the  sense  of 
dependence.  As  man  was  made  for  God,  there  is  a  nisus  in  the 
direction  of  this  union  to  his  Creator.  This  tendency,  which  may 
take  the  form  of  an  intense  craving,  may  be  compared  to  the 
social  instinct  with  which  it  is  akin.  As  man  was  made  not  to  be 
alone,  but  to  commune  with  other  beings  like  himself,  solitude 
would  be  an  unnatural  and  almost  unbearable  state  ;  and  a  longing 
for  converse  with  other  men  is  a  part  of  his  nature.  In  like  man¬ 
ner,  as  man  was  made  to  commune  with  God,  he  is  drawn  to  God 
by  an  inward  tendency,  the  strength  of  which  is  derived  from  the 
vacuum  left  in  the  soul,  and  the  unsatisfied  yearning,  consequent 
on  an  exclusion  of  God  as  the  supreme  object  of  love  and  trust. 
These  feelings  are  not  to  be  discounted  from  the  testimony  in  the 
soul  to  his  being. 

John  Fiske  in  his  little  book  Through  Nature  to  God ,1 2  speaks 
of  the  nascent  Human  Soul  vaguely  reaching  forth  toward 
something  akin  to  itself  not  in  the  realm  of  fleeting  phenomena 
but  in  the  Eternal  Presence  beyond.  He  adds :  “  If  the  re- 

1  Cf.  Ulrici,  Gott  u.  die  Natur,  pp.  606  seq.  “  The  general  conviction  of  a 
divine  existence  we  regard  as  less  an  inference  than  a  perception.”  —  Bowne, 
Studies  in  Theism ,  p.  79. 

2  pp.  188,  1 89. 


THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN 


19 


lation  thus  established  in  the  morning  twilight  of  Man’s  existence 
between  the  Human  Soul  and  a  world  invisible  and  immaterial 
is  a  relation  of  which  only  the  subjective  term  is  real  and  the 
objective  term  is  non-existent,  then  I  say  it  is  something  utterly 
without  precedent  in  the  whole  history  of  creation.”  It  contra¬ 
dicts  “all  the  analogies  of  evolution,”  so  far  as  we  understand 
it.  To  whatever  just  criticism  some  expressions  of  this  author  con¬ 
nected  with  the  foregoing  observations  may  be  open,  these  state¬ 
ments  on  the  “Everlasting  Reality  of  Religion”  are  sound  and 
impressive.  “  Our  heart  is  restless,”  writes  Augustine,  “  unless  it 
repose  in  Thee.” 

In  sense-perception  external  objects  are  brought  directly  to  our 
knowledge.  Through  sensations  compared  and  combined  by 
reason,  we  perceive  outward  things  in  their  being  and  relations. 
There  are  perceptions  of  the  spirit  as  well  as  of  sense.  The  being 
whom  we  call  God  may,  so  to  speak,  come  in  contact  with  the 
soul.  As  the  soul,  in  the  experience  of  sensations,  posits  the 
outer  world,  so,  in  analogous  inward  experience?,  it  posits  God. 
The  feelings,  yearnings,  aspirations,  which  are  at  the  root  of  the 
spiritual  perception,  are  not  continuous,  as  in  the  perceptions  of 
matter ;  they  vary  in  liveliness  ;  they  are  contingent,  in  a  remark¬ 
able  degree,  on  character.  Hence  religious  faith  may  not  have 
the  clearness,  the  uniform  and  abiding  character,  which  belongs 
to  our  recognition  of  outward  things.1 

The  understanding  is  not  the  sole  authority  in  the  sphere  of 
moral  and  religious  belief.  Rationalism  has  been  defined  as  “a 
usurpation  of  the  understanding.”  There  are  moral  exactions  and 
dictates  which  have  a  voice  not  to  be  disregarded.  So,  likewise, 
are  there  instinctive,  almost  irrepressible,  instincts  of  feeling  to  be 
taken  into  account.  It  is  the  satisfaction  of  the  spirit,  and  not 
any  single  organ  or  function  of  the  soul,  which  is  felt  to  be  the 
criterion  of  full-orbed  truth.  “  If  a  certain  formula  for  expressing 
the  nature  of  the  world  violates  my  moral  demand,  I  shall  be  as 
free  to  throw  it  overboard,  or  at  least  to  doubt  it,  as  if  it  disap¬ 
pointed  my  demand  for  uniformity  of  sequence.” 2  “  Just  as  within 

1  On  the  subject  of  the  immediate  manifestation  of  God  to  the  soul,  and 
the  analogy  of  sense-perception,  the  reader  may  be  referred  to  Lotze,  Grund- 
ziige  d.  Religionsphil.,  p.  3;  Mikrokosmos,  vol.  iii.  chap,  iv.;  Ulrici,  Gott  u.  die 
Nalur ,  pp.  605-624;  Gott  u.  der  Mensch ,  vol.  i.;  Bowne,  Studies  in  Theism , 
chap.  ii.  2  Professor  William  James,  The  Will  to  Believe ,  etc.,  p.  147* 


20  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


the  limits  of  theism  some  kinds  are  surviving  others  by  reason  of 
their  greater  practical  rationality,  so  theism  itself,  by  reason  of  its 
practical  rationality,  is  certain  to  survive  all  lower  creeds.” 1 
“There  is  a  moral  as  well  as  a  logical  rationality  to  be  satisfied,” 
is  a  pithy  sentence  of  the  same  author,  who  adds  respecting  the 
inquiries  and  suggestions  of  natural  science  that  even  “  Physics 
is  always  seeking  to  satisfy  our  own  subjective  passions.” 

Belief  in  a  future  life,  in  immortality,  is  closely  connected  with 
belief  in  God.  The  soul  that  communes  with  him  finds  in  this 
very  relation  —  in  the  sense  of  its  own  worth  implied  in  this  rela¬ 
tion —  the  assurance  that  it  is  not  to  perish  with  its  material 
organs.  It  is  conscious  of  belonging  to  a  different  order  of  things. 
In  proportion  as  the  moral  and  religious  nature  is  roused  to  activ¬ 
ity,  this  consciousness  gains  in  life  and  vigor.  “  ‘  But  how  do  you 
wish  us  to  bury  you?’  said  Crito  to  Socrates.  ‘Just  as  you  please/ 
he  answered,  ‘if  you  only  get  hold  of  me  and  do  not  let  me  escape 
you.’  And  quietly  laughing  and  glancing  at  us,  he  said,  ‘  I  cannot 
persuade  Crito,  my  friends,  that  this  Socrates,  who  is  now  talking 
with  you,  and  laying  down  each  one  of  these  propositions,  is  my 
very  self;  for  his  mind  is  full  of  the  thought  that  /  am  he  whom 
he  is  to  see  in  a  little  while  as  a  corpse ;  and  so  he  asks  how  he 
shall  bury  me.’  ” 2 

The  consciousness  of  a  free  and  responsible  nature,  of  a  law 
suggestive  of  a  personal  Lawgiver,  of  the  need  of  communion  with 
the  Father  of  the  spirit,  of  the  sense  of  orphanage  without  God, 
are  not  all  that  is  required  for  the  realization  of  religion  in  the 
soul.  There  must  be  an  acknowledgment  of  God  which  carries  in 
it  an  active  concurrence  of  the  will.  The  will  utters  its  “  yea  ” 
and  “amen”  to  the  attractive  power  of  God  experienced  within 
the  soul.  It  gives  consent  to  the  reality  of  that  dependence  and 
obligation  to  obedience,  in  which  the  finite  soul  stands  to  God. 
“  The  holding  fast  to  the  personal  God  and  to  the  inviolability  of 
conscience,  is  an  act  of  the  soul,  conditioned  on  a  living  sense  of 
the  supreme  worth  of  this  conviction.”  Faith  springs  from  no 
coercion  of  logic.  When  a  man  is  sorely  tempted  by  plausible 
reasoning,  but  chooses  to  abide  by  the  right,  come  what  will,  it  is 

1  Professor  William  James,  The  Will  to  Believe,  etc.,  p.  126. 

2  Plato,  PZuedo,  115. 


THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN 


21 


a  kind  of  venture.  The  inward  satisfaction,  with  the  decision  once 
made,  requires  no  other  testimonial.  We  believe  in  God,  not  on 

the  ground  of  a  scientific . demonstration,  but  because  it  is  our 

(duty  to  believe  in  him.  Faith  in  its  general  sense  is  defined  by 
Coleridge  as  “Jkieli-tjL.to  our  own  being  —  so  far  as  such  being  is 
not  and  cannot  become  an  object  of  the  senses,”  together  with  its 
concomitants,  the  first  of  which  is  the  acknowledgment  of  God.1 

The  refusal  thus  practically  to  acknowledge  God  by  a  ratifying 
act  of  the  will,  the  assent  of  the  entire  man,  is  to  enthrone  the 
false  principle  of  self-assertion  or  self-sufficiency  in  the  soul,  — 
false  because  it  is  contrary  to  the  reality  of  things.  It  is  a  kind 
of  self-deification.  Man  may  refuse  “  to  retain  God  in  his  knowl¬ 
edge.”  The  result  is,  that  the  feelings  out  of  which  religion 
springs,  and  in  which  it  is  rationally  founded,  are  not  extirpated, 
but  are  driven  to  fasten  on  finite  objects  in  the  world,  or  on  ficti¬ 
tious  creations  of  the  imagination.  Idolatry  is  the  enthronement 
of  that  which  belongs  to  the  creature,  in  the  place  of  the  Creator. 
There  is  an  idolatry  of  which  the  world,  in  the  form  of  power, 
fame,  riches,  pleasure,  or  knowledge,  is  the  object.  When  the 
proper  food  is  wanting,  the  attempt  is  made  to  appease  the  appe¬ 
tite  with  drugs  and  stimulants. 

Theology  has  deemed  itself  warranted  by  sound  philosophy,  as 
well  as  by  the  teaching  of  Scripture,  in  maintaining,  that,  but  for  the 
intrusion  of  moral  evil  or  the  practical  substitution  of  a  finite  object, 
real  or  imaginary,  for  God  as  the  supreme  good,  the  knowledge  of 
him  would  shine  more  and  more  brightly  in  the  soul,  from 
the  dawn  of  intelligence,  keeping  pace  with  its  advancing  de- , 
velopment.  The  more  one  turns  the  eye  within,  and  fastens  his  ; 
attention  on  the  characteristic  elements  of  his  own  spirit,  the  more  I 
clear  and  firm  is  found  to  be  his  belief  in  God.  And  the  more 
completely  the  will  follows  the  law  that  is  written  on  the  heart,  the 
more  vivid  is  the  conviction  of  the  reality  of  the  Lawgiver,  whose 
authority  is  expressed  in  it.  The  experience  of  religion  carries 
with  it  a  constantly  growing  sense  of  the  reality  of  its  object. 

The  following  extracts  from  two  writers  of  marked  ability,  al¬ 
though  not  in  entire  accord  in  their  points  of  view,  are  excellent 
statements  of  a  philosophical  truth. 

1  Fresh  and  instructive  observations  on  the  voluntary  element  in  belief  are 
contained  in  the  work  cited  above,  The  Will  to  Believe ,  etc.,  by  Professor 
James. 


22  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


“  Not  only  is  the  subject  active  in  perception,  but  he  necessarily 
and  inevitably  has  an  inchoate  consciousness  of  himself  as  a  sub¬ 
ject  in  distinction  from  the  subjects  which  that  activity  enables 
him  to  apprehend.  .  .  .  And  the  same  is  true  of  the  idea  of  God 
which  is  presupposed  in  the  division  of  the  self  from  the  not-self 
and  in  all  other  divisions  of  consciousness.  .  .  .  And,  like  the 
idea  of  self,  the  idea  of  God  must  at  a  very  early  period  take  some 
form  for  us,  though  it  may  not  for  a  very  long  time  take  an  ade¬ 
quate  form.  Man  may  hide  his  inborn  sense  of  the  infinite  in 
vague  superstitions  which  confuse  it  with  the  finite ;  but  he  cannot 
altogether  escape  from  it,  or  prevent  his  consciousness  of  the  finite 
from  being  disturbed  by  it.”1 

“  Anterior  to  and  independent  of  philosophy,  a  tacit  faith  in  the 
ego,  in  external  things,  and  in  God,  seems  to  pervade  human  ex¬ 
perience  ;  mixing,  often  unconsciously,  with  the  lives  of  all ; 
never  perfectly  defined,  but  in  its  fundamental  ideas  more  or 
less  operative  ;  often  intellectually  confused,  yet  never  without  a 
threefold  influence  in  human  life.  .  .  .  Life  is  good  and  happy 
in  proportion  to  the  due  acknowledgment  of  all  the  three.  Con¬ 
fused  conceptions  of  the  three  are  inexhaustible  sources  of  two 
extremes  —  superstition  and  scepticism.” 2 

But  we  have  to  look  at  men  as  they  are.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
“  the  consciousness  of  God  ”  is  obscure,  more  latent  than  ex¬ 
plicit,  germinant  rather  than  developed.  It  waits  to  be  quickened 
and  illuminated  by  the  manifestation  of  God  in  nature  and  provi¬ 
dence,  and  by  instruction. 

Writers  on  psychology  have  frequently  neglected  to  give  an 
account  of  presentiment ,  a  state  of  consciousness  in  which  feeling 
is  predominant,  and  knowledge  is  indistinct.  There  are  vague  an¬ 
ticipations  of  truth  not  yet  clearly  discerned.  It  is  possible  to  seek 
for  something,  one  knows  not  precisely  what.  Were  it  discerned 
it  would  not  have  to  be  sought.  Yet  it  is  not  utterly  beyond  our  ken, 
else  how  could  we  seek  for  it  ?  Explorers  and  inventors  may  feel 
themselves  on  the  threshold  of  great  discoveries  just  before  they 
are  made.  Poets,  at  least,  have  recognized  the  deep  import  of 
occult,  vague  feelings  which  almost  baffle  analysis.  The  German 
psychologists  who  have  most  satisfactorily  handled  the  subject 

1  E.  Caird,  The  Evolution  of  Religion,  vol.  i.  pp.  184,  186. 

2  Fraser,  Philosophy  of  Theism ,  second  edition,  amended  (1899). 


THE  PERSONALITY  OF  GOD  AND  OF  MAN 


2  3 


before  us,  as  Lotze,  Ulrici,  Julius  Muller,  Nitzsch,  find  in  their 
language  an  expressive  term  to  designate  our  primitive  sense  or 
apprehension  of  God.  It  is  Ahnung ,  of  which  our  word  “  presage  ” 
is  a  partial  equivalent.  The  apostle  Paul  refers  to  the  providential 
control  of  nations  as  intended  to  incite  men  “  to  seek  the  Lord,  if 
haply  they  might  feel  after  Him,  and  find  Him.” 1  He  is  not 
known,  but  sought  for.  Rather  do  men  feel  after  Hun ,  as  a  blind 
man  moves  about  in  quest  of  something,  or  as  we  grope  in  the 
dark.  This  philosophy  of  religion  is  conformed  to  the  observed 
facts.  There  is  that  in  man  which  makes  him  restless  without  God, 
discontented  with  every  substitute  for  Him.  The  subjective  basis 
for  religion,  inherent  in  the  very  constitution  o£._th£-SQulr  is  the 
spur  to  the  search  for  God,  the  condition  of  apprehending  Him 
when  revealed  (whether  in  nature,  or  in  providence,  or  in  Christi¬ 
anity),  and  the  ultimate  ground  of  certitude  as  to  the  things  of 
faith.2 

1  Acts  xvii.  27. 

2  For  additional  remarks  on  the  origin  of  religion,  see  Appendix,  Note  23. 


CHAPTER  II 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD  :  THEIR  FUNCTION  IN 
GENERAL  AND  AS  SEVERALLY  CONSIDERED 

It  will  be  clear,  from  the  foregoing  chapter,  that  the  ultimate 
source  of  the  belief  in  God  is  not  in  processes  of  argument.  His 
presence  is  more  immediately  manifest.  There  is  a  native  belief, 
arising  spontaneously  in  connection  with  the  feeling  of  dependence 
and  the  phenomena  of  conscience,  however  obscure,  undeveloped, 
or  perverted  that  faith  may  be.  The  arguments  for  the  being  of 
God  confirm,  at  the  same  time  that  they  elucidate  and  define  it. 
They  are  so  many  different  points  of  view  from  which  we  contem¬ 
plate  the  object  of  faith.  Each  one  of  them  tends  to  show,  not 
simply  that  God  is,  but  what  He  is.  They  fill  out  the  conception 
by  pointing  out  particulars  brought  to  light  in  the  manifestation 
which  God  has  made  of  Himself. 

In  presenting  the  several  proofs  of  theism,  which  is  the  doctrine 
of  a  personal  God,  infinite  in  His  attributes,  we  begin  witliHEe 
intuition  which  is  denominated,  in  the  language  of  philosophy,  the 
Unconditioned,  the  Absolute.  By  “  the  Absolute  ”  is  signified 
that  which  is  complete  in  itself,  that  which  stands  in  no  necessary 
relation  to  other  beings.  It  denotes  being  which  is  independent 
as  to  existence  and  action.  A  cognate  notion  is  that  of  the 
Infinite,  which  designates  being  without  limit.  The  Uncondi¬ 
tioned,  in  form  a  negative  term,  is  more  generic.  It  means  free 
from  all  restriction.  It  is  often  used  as  synonymous  with  ‘‘the 
Absolute,”  a  term  positive  in  its  significance. 

We  have  an  immediate  conviction  of  the  reality  of  the  Absolute, 
that  is,  of  being  which  is  dependent  upon  no  other  as  the  condi¬ 
tion  of  existence  and  activity.  When  we  look  abroad  upon  the 
world,  we  discern  a  multitude  of  objects,  each  bounded  by  others, 
each  conditioned  by  beings  other  than  itself,  none  of  them  com¬ 
plete  or  independent.  We  perceive  everywhere  demarcation, 
mutual  dependence,  interaction.  Looking  within,  we  see  that  our 

24 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


25 


own  minds  and  our  mental  processes  are  in  the  same  way  restricted, 
conditioned.  The  mind  has  a  definite  constitution ;  the  act  of 
knowledge  requires  an  object  as  its  necessary  condition.  The 
spectacle  of  the  world  is  that  of  a  vast  aggregate  of  interrelated 
beings,  none  of  them  independent,  self- originated,  self-sustained. 

Inseparable  from  this  perception  of  the  relative,  the  limited,  the 
dependent,  is  the  idea  of  the  Unconditioned,  the  Absolute.  It  is 
the  correlate  of  the  finite  and  Conditioned.  Its  reality  is  known  as 
implied  in  the  reality  of  the  world  of  finite,  interacting,  dependent 
existences.  The  Unconditioned  is  abstract  in  form,  but  only  in 
form.  It  is  not  a  mere  negative ;  it  must  have  a  positive  content. 
It  is  negative  in  its  verbal  form,  because  it  is  antithetical  to  the 
conditioned,  and  is  known  through  it.  But  the  idea  is  positive, 
though  it  be  incomplete ;  that  is  to  say,  although  we  fall  short  of  a 
complete  grasp  of  the  object  denoted  by  it.  The  reality  of  the 
Unconditioned,  almost  all  philosophers,  except  Positivists  of  an  ex¬ 
treme  type,  recognize.  Metaphysicians  of  the  school  of  Hamilton 
and  Mansel  hold  that,  as  a  reality,  it  is  an  object  of  immediate 
and  necessary  belief,  although,  according  to  their  definition  of 
terms,  they  do  not  regard  it  as  an  object  of  conceptive  thought. 
But  some  sort  of  knowledge  of  it  there  must  be  in  order  to  such  a 
belief.  Moreover,  the  Unconditioned  is  not  merely  subjective,  it 
is  not  a  mere  idea,  as  Kant,  in  the  theoretical  part  of  his  phi¬ 
losophy,  holds.  He  makes  this  idea  necessary  to  the  order,  con¬ 
nection,  and  unity  of  our  knowledge.  We  can  ask  for  no  surer 
criterion  of  real  existence  than  this.1  Unconditioned  being-  is 
the  silent  presupposition  of  all  our  knowing.  Be  it  observed, 
likewise,  that  the  idea  of  the  Absolute  is  not  that  of  “  the  sum  of 
all  reality,”  —  a  quantitative  notion.  It  is  not  the  idea  of  the 
Unrelated,  but  of  that  which  is  not  of  necessity  related.  It  does 
not  exclude  other  beings,  but  other  beings  only  when  conceived 
of  as  a  necessary  complement  of  itself,  or  as  the  product  of  its 
necessary  activity,  or  as  existing  independently  alongside  of  itself. 
Again,  the  Absolute  which  is  given  in  the  intuition  is  one.  It  is 
infinite,  not  as  comprehending  in  itself  of  necessity  all  beings,  but 
as  their  ground  and  as  incapable  of  any  conceivable  augmenting  of 
its  powers.  It  is  free  from  all  restrictions  which  are  not  self- 
imposed.  Anything  more  respecting  the  Absolute  is  not  here 
affirmed.  It  might  be,  as  far  as  we  have  gone  now,  the  universal 
1  Cf.  Trendelenburg,  Logische  UntersucJiungen ,  vol.  ii.  p.  426. 


2 6  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


substance,  the  impersonal  deity  of  Spinoza,  or  it  might  be  “  the 
Unknowable  ”  of  Spencer.  For  the  rectifying  of  these  hypotheses, 
we  depend  on  other  considerations. 

The  “arguments-”  for  the  being  of  God  are  usually  classified  as 
the  ontological,  the  cosmological,  and  the  teleological,  or  the 
argument  of  design.  This  last  comprehends  the  evidences  of 


design  in  Nature,  together  with  the  moral  and  historical  arguments 
having  a  like  probative  value. 

I.  The  ontological  argument.  This  makes  the  existence  of  God 
involved  in  the  idea  of  Him.  This  argument  does  not  profess  to 
appeal  to  the  intuition  of  the  Absolute  which  is  evoked  in  conjunc¬ 
tion  with  our  perceptions  of  relative  and  dependent  existence.  The 


ontological  proof  begins  and  ends  with  the  j,naly sis  of  thejdea.  The 
proposition  is  that  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  God  is  involved  in  the 


very  idea.  In  the  argument  of  Anselm,  it  is  affirmed  that  the  great¬ 
est  (or  the  most  perfect)  conceivable  being  must  be  actual ;  other¬ 
wise,  a  property,  that  of  actuality,  or  objective  being,  is  lacking. 
To  this  it  has  been  answered  that  existence  ,in  re  is  not  a  constitu¬ 
ent  of  a  concept.  Anselm’s  contention  was  that  it  is  not  mere 
existence,  but  a  mode  of  existence,  a  necessity  of  existence,  that  is 
the  missing  element  in  question.  Still,  it  has  been  answered,  the 
existence  of  a  thing  cannot  be  concluded  from  the  definition  of  a 
word.  In  truth,  that  which  Anselm  presents  in  the  shape  of  a 
syllogistic  proof  is  really  the  rational  intuition  of  Absolute  Being.1 
From  the  mere  idea,  except  on  the  basis  of  philosophical  realism, 
a  corresponding  entity  cannot  be  inferred. 

Descartes  alleges  a  double  basis  for  our  knowledge  of  the  exist¬ 
ence  of  God.  The  idea  of  an  infinite  self-conscious  being  is 
deduced  from  our  own  finite  self-consciousness.  That  idea  can¬ 
not  be  a  product  of  the  finite  self.  Its  presence  in  the  human 
mind  can  be  accounted  for,  only  by  ascribing  it  to  the  Infinite 
Being  himself.  But,  further,  Descartes  follows  in  the  path  of 
Anselm,  and  holds  that  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  God  is  in¬ 
volved  in  the  definition  of  the  Most  Real  Being,  just  as  the  equal¬ 
ity  of  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  is  involved  in  the  definition  of 
a  triangle.  Here,  moreover,  the  intuition  of  the  Absolute  is  cast 
into  the  form  of  a  proof. 

'Dr.  Samuel  ClarkebT“  demonstration  ”  only  establishes  a  priori 
the  existence  of  a  being  eternal  and  necessarily  existing.  For  of 


1  So  it  is  interpreted  by  Harris,  The  Self-Revelation  of  God,  p.  164. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


2; 


the  intelligence  of  this  being  the  proof  is  a  posteriori.  Facts  are 
adduced,  —  namely,  the  order  and  beauty  perceived  in  the  world, 
and  the  intelligence  possessed  by  finite,  human  beings.1 

There  is  cogency  in  what  has  been  called  the  logical  form  of 
the  a  priori  proof.  It  is  adopted  by  Anselm  and  Aquinas.  It  is 
impossible  to  deny  that  there  is  Truth ;  the  denial  would  be  self¬ 
contradictory.  But  those  ideas  and  truths  which  are  the  ground¬ 
work  of  all  our  knowing  —  the  laws  of  our  intellectual  and  moral 
constitution  —  have  their  source  without  us  and  beyond  us.  They 
inhere  in  God.  A  like  indirect  proof  has  been  presented  as  fol¬ 
lows.  The  human  mind  goes  out  of  itself  to  know  the  world,  and 
also,  by  exertions  of  the  will,  to  mould  and  subdue  it.  Yet  the 
world  is  independent  of  the  mind  that  seeks  thus  to  comprehend 
it  and  shape  it  to  its  purposes.  This  freedom  of  the  mind  implies 
that  the  world  is  intelligible,  that  there  is  thought  in  things.  Al¬ 
though  this  proposition  is  denied  by  agnostics,  yet  it  is  tacitly 
admitted  by  them  in  all  communications  made  from  one  to 
another.  It  implies  that  there  is  a  common  bond  —  namely.rJGod, 
the  Truth  —  between  thoughts  and  things,  mind  and  the  world. 
Thought  and  thing,  subject  and  object,  each  matched  to  the  other, 
presuppose  an  intelligible  ground  of  both.  This  presupposition  is 
latent  in  all  attempts  to  explore  and  comprehend,  to  bring  within 
the  domain  of  knowledge,  and  to  shape  to  rational  ends,  the  world 
without. 

II.  The  cosmological  proof.  As  usually  stated,  this  proof  is 
made  to  rest  on  the  principle  of  causation..  Whatever  begins  to 
be,  owes  its  being  to  a  cause  not  itself.  The  minor  premise  is  that 
finite  things  begin  to  be.  But  this  proposition,  if  it  be  admitted 
to  be  probably  true,  is  not  capable  of  full  demonstration.  The 
consequence  is  that  we  must  fall  back  on  the  intuition  of  the  Abso¬ 
lute  Being.  Here  we  find  the  origin  and  justification  of  the  princi¬ 
ple  of  causation.  The  hypothesis  of  an  infinite  series  or  regress, 
does  not  meet  this  demand.  It  is  equivalent  to  saying  that  there 
is  no  cause,  that  the  notion  of  cause  is  illusive.  A  phenomenon 
—  call  it  a  —  calls  for  explanation  ;  it  demands  a  cause.  If  we 
are  told  that  the  cause  of  it  is  b ,  but  told  at  the  same  time  that  in  b 
there  is  no  fount  of  causal  energy,  so  that  we  have  precisely  the  same 
demand  to  satisfy  respecting  b  as  respecting  a ,  then  no  answer 
has  been  given  to  our  first  question  :  we  are  put  off  with  an  eva- 
1  See,  on  Clarke’s  argument,  Dr.  R.  Flint,  in  Encycl.  Brit.  vol.  ix.  p.  no. 


2 8  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


sion.  That  question  takes  for  granted  the  reality  of  aboriginal 
causal  energy.  It  proceeds  from  a  demand  of  intelligence  which 
is  illegitimate  and  irrational,  unless  there  be  a  cause  in  the  abso¬ 
lute  sense,  —  a  cause  uncaused. 

The  existence  of  an  eternal  being,  the  cause  of  the  world,  is  veri¬ 
fied.  It  is  a  reasonable  judgment  that  the  uncaused  eternal  being 
is  a  voluntary  agent.  For  where  do  we  get  our  idea  of  “  cause?  ” 
For  an  answer  to  this  question,  we  must  look  within.  It  is  in  the  ex¬ 
ercise  of  will  alone  that  we  become  conscious  of  power,  and  arrive  at 
the  notion  of  causation.  We  act  upon  the  world  exterior  to  self, 
and  consciously  meet  with  resistance  from  without,  which  gives  us 
the  consciousness  of  external  reality.  It  has  been  already  ex¬ 
plained  that  we  have  no  direct  knowledge  of  anything  of  the  na¬ 
ture  of  cause,  nor  could  we  ever  get  such  knowledge,  except 
through  this  exercise  of  energy  in  voluntary  action.  The  will^ 
influences  intellectual  states  through  attention,  which  is  a  volun¬ 
tary  act.  We  can  fasten  our  observation  on  one  thing,  or  one 
idea,  in  preference  to  another.  The  nascent  self-activity  which 
we  style  the  exercise  of  the  will  belongs  to  the  earliest  develop¬ 
ment  of  the  mind.  It  is  doubtful  whether  distinct  perception 
would  be  possible  without  a  directing  of  the  attention  to  one  after 
another  of  the  qualities  of  external  objects,  or  at  least  without 
such  a  discrimination  among  the  phenomena  presented  to  the 
senses  as  involves  the  exercise  of  attention.  Now,  were  it  not  for 
this  consciousness  of  causal  activity  in  ourselves,  in  our  own  wills, 
were  we  merely  the  subjects  of  utterly  passive  impressions  from  the 
world  without,  the  conception  of  cause  would  be  wanting. 

Inasmuch  as  the  only  cause  of  which  we  are  immediately  con¬ 
scious  is  will,  it  is  the  dictate  of  reason  to  refer  the  power  which 
acts  upon  us  from  without  to  will  as  its  source.  The  theory  that 
“  forces  ”  inhere  in  nature,  which  are  disconnected  from  the  agency 
of  will,  is  without  warrant  from  ascertained  truth  in  science.  If  it 
be  supposed  that  plural  agencies,  separate  or  combined,  do  exist, 
even  then  analogy  justifies  the  belief  that  they  are  dependent  for 
their  being  and  sustained  activity  on  a  Supreme  Will.  In  this 
case,  the  precise  mode  of  the  connection  of  the  primary  and  the 
subordinate  agency  is  a  mystery,  as  is  true  of  the  muscular  move¬ 
ments  of  the  human  arm,  so  far  as  they  originate  and  are  kept  up 
by  volition.  That  the  will  of  God  is  immanent  and  active  in  all 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


29 


things,  is  a  legitimate  inference  from  what  we  know  by  experience 
of  the  nature  of  causation. 

The  polytheistic  religions  did  not  err  in  identifying  the  mani¬ 
fold  activities  of  nature  with  voluntary  agency.  The  spontaneous 
feelings  of  mankind  in  this  particular  are  not  belied  by  the 
principles  of  philosophy.  The  error  of  polytheism  lies  in  the 
splintering  of  that  Will  which  is  immanent  in  all  the  operations  of 
natureTntcT a  plurality  of  personal  agents,  a  throng  of  divinities, 
each  active  and  dominant  chiefly  within  a  province  of  its  own. 

How  shall  we  confute  polytheism?  What  warrant  is  there  for 
asserting  the  unity  of  the  Power  that  pervades  nature  ? 

In  the  first  place,  an  example  of  such  a  unity  is  presented  in 
the  operation  of  our  own  wills.  We  put  forth  a  multitude  of  voli¬ 
tions  ;  we  exert  our  voluntary  agency  in  many  different  directions  ; 
this  agency  stretches  over  long  periods  of  time ;  yet  the  same 
identical  will  is  the  source  of  all  these  effects.  To  attribute  the 
sources  of  our  passive  impressions  collectively  to  a  single  self 
without,  as  our  personal  exertions  consciously  emanate  from  a 
single  self  . within,  is  natural  and  rational. 

Secondly,  what  philosophers  call  the  “  law  of  parsimony  ”  pre¬ 
cludes  us  from  assuming  more  causes  to  account  for  a  given  effect 
than  are  necessary.  The  One  self-existent  Being,  known  to  us  by 
intuition,  suffices  to  account  for  the  phenomena  of  nature.  To 
postulate  a  plurality  of  such  beings  —  were  a  plurality  of  self-exist¬ 
ent  beings  metaphysically  possible  —  would  compel  the  conclu¬ 
sion  that  they  are  either  in  concord  or  in  conflict. 

Thirdly,  the  fact  that  nature  is  one  coherent  system  proves 
that  the  operations  of  nature  spring  from  one  efficient  Cause.  \ 
The  progress  of  scientific  observation  tends  to  show  that  the 
world  is  a  cosmos.  Science  is  constantly  clearing  away  barriers 
which  have  been  imagined  to  break  up  the  visible  universe  into 
distinct  and  separate  provinces.  The  word  “  universe”  signifies 
unity.  Men  speak  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth;  but  the  earth 
belongs  in  the  starry  system.  The  earth  is  a  planet,  and  with  its 
associate  planets  is  one  of  countless  similar  groups,  not  alien 
from  one  another,  but  linked  together  in  the  stellar  universe. 
Scientific  theory  more  and  more  favors  the  reduction  of  “  forces  ” 
to  unity.  The  theory  of  the  conservation  of  force  is  an  illustra¬ 
tion.  The  unity  of  the  world  testifies  to  the  unity  of  God.' 

III.  The  argument  of  design.  The  personality  of  God  is 


30  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


proved  by  the  argument  of  design.  God  is  known  to  be  intel¬ 
ligent  and  free  by  the  manifest  traces  of  purpose  in  the  constitu¬ 
tion  of  the  world. 

When  we  attend  to  the  various  objects,  the  human  mind  in¬ 
cluded,  of  which  the  knowing  faculty  takes  cognizance,  we  discover 
something  more  than  the  properties  which  differentiate  one  from 
another  and  the  causes  which  bring  them  into  being.1  In  this 
very  process  of  investigation  we  are  struck  with  the  fact  that  there 
is  a  coincidence  and  cooperation  of  what  are  named  physical  or 
efficient  causes  for  the  production  of  definite  effects.  These 
causes  are  perceived  to  be  so  constituted  and  disposed  as  to  con¬ 
cur  in  the  production  of  the  effect,  and  —  the  elective  preferences 
of  the  will  excepted  —  to  concur  in  such  a  way  that  the  particular 
result  regularly  follows.  This  conjunction  of  disparate  agencies, 
of  which  a  definite  product  is  the  outcome,  is  the  finality  which 
is  observed  in  Nature.  But  our  observation  extends  farther. 
We  involuntarily  assume  that  this  coincidence  of  causes  is  in  order 
that  the  peculiar  and  specific  result  may  follow.  This  assumption 
of  design  is  not  an  arbitrary  act  on  our  part.  It  is  spontaneous. 
The  conviction  is  one  inspired  by  the  objects  themselves.  We 
see  a  thought  realized,  and  recognize  in  it  a  forethought. 

All  must  admit  that  the  observation  of  order  and  adaptation  in 
Nature,  inspiring  the  conviction  of  a  designing  mind  concerned 
in  its  origination,  is  natural  to  mankind.  It  has  impressed  alike 
the  philosopher  and  the  peasant.  Socrates  made  use  of  the  illus¬ 
tration  of  a  statue,  as  Paley,  two  thousand  years  later,  chose  the 
illustration  of  a  watch. 

The  proof  from  evidences  of  design  is  styled  the  argument  from 
“  final  causes.”  In  this  expression,  the  term  “  final  ”  refers  to  the 
end  for  which  anything  is  made,  as  distinguished  from  what  we 
style  the  mechanical  causes  concerned  in  its  origination.  The 
end  is  the  purpose  in  view,  and  is  so  called  because  its  manifes¬ 
tation  is  last  in  the  order  of  time.  Thus,  a  man  purposes  to 
build  a  house.  He  collects  the  materials,  brings  them  into  the 
proper  shape,  raises  the  walls,  and,  in  short,  does  everything  need¬ 
ful  to  carry  out  his  intention.  The  final  cause  is  seen  in  the  com- 

1  Be  it  observed  that  we  use  the  term  “  causes,”  in  this  connection,  in  the 
sense  in  which  it  is  popularly  taken,  and  without  reference  now  to  the  question 
whether  forces  distinct  from  the  agency  of  the  divine  will  and  resident  in 
matter  are  to  be  regarded  as  real. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


31 


pleted  dwelling  for  the  habitation  of  his  family.  The  final  cause 
of  a  watch  is  to  tell  the  time.  The  efficient  causes  are  all  the 
forces  and  agencies  concerned  in  the  making  of  it  and  in  the  reg¬ 
ular  movement  of  its  parts. 

It  is  a  familiar  fact  that  a  thing  may  be  an  end,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  a  means  to  another  end  more  remote.  When  a  mechanic 
is  making  a  spoke,  it  is  the  spoke  which  is  the  immediate  end  in 
view.  But  the  end  of  the  spoke  is  to  connect  the  rim  of  the 
wheel  with  the  hub.  The  end  of  the  wheel  is  to  revolve  upon 
the  axle ;  and  the  wagon  is  the  end  for  which  all  its  parts  are 
fashioned  and  connected.  The  transporting  of  persons  or  things 
is  a  further  end,  ulterior  but  prior  in  the  order  of  thought. 
There  are  subordinate  ends  and  chief  ends.  We  are  not,  there¬ 
fore,  to  ignore  the  marks  of  design,  even  in  cases  where  the  chief 
end,  the  ultimate  purpose,  may  be  faintly  perceived,  or  be  quite  in 
the  dark. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  “  we  cannot  reason  from  the  works  of 
man  to  the  works  of  nature.”  Why  not?  We  are  seeking  to 
explain  the  origin  of  the  scene  that  is  spread  before  us  in  the 
world  in  which  we  live.  Is  the  cause  intelligent?  We  know  what 
are  the  characteristic  signs  of  intelligence.  These  signs  are  obvi¬ 
ous  in  the  world  around  us.  The  marks  of  design  in  nature  re- 
veal_to_us  its  intelligent  author.  For  the  same  reason  that  we 
recognize  an  intelligent  cause  in  countless  products  of  human 
agency  whose  particular  origin  and  authorship  we  know  not,  we 
infer  an  intelligent  cause  in  things  not  made  by  man.  In  them 
we  discern  equal  evidence  of  an  end  reached  by  the  selection  and 
combination  of  means  adapted  to  accomplish  it.  If  it  is  not  a 
literal  truth,  it  is  far  more  than  a  fancy,  when  we  say  that  they 
conspire  to  produce  it. 

This  mode  of  reasoning  is  often  considered  an  argument  from 
analogy.  We  sometimes  apply  the  term  “  analogy”  to  a  merely 
figurative  likeness  which  the  imagination  suggests ;  as  when  we 
speak  of  the  “  analogy  ”  between  a  rushing  stream  and  the  rapid 
utterance  of  an  excited  orator.  This  is  the  diction  of  poetry. 
But  when  we  have  always  found  that  certain  properties  in  an  animal 
are  united  with  a  given  characteristic  —  for  example,  speed  —  we 
expect  wherever  we  meet  the  same  collection  of  properties,  to 
find  in  their  company  this  additional  quality.  This  we  look  for  with 
a  certain  degree  of  confidence  even  when  no  specific  connection 


32  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


between  such  properties  and  their  associate  has  yet  been  detected. 
This  is  an  argument  from  analogy. 

J.  S.  Mill  maintains  that  the  argument  of  design  is  a  genuine 
instance  of  inductive  reasoning.  “The  design  argument,”  says 
Mill,  “  is  not  drawn  from  mere  resemblance  in  nature  to  the  work 
of  human  intelligence,  but  from  the  special  character  of  this  resem¬ 
blance.  The  circumstances  in  which  it  is  alleged  that  the  world 
resembles  the  works  of  man  are  not  circumstances  taken  at  random, 
but  are  particular  instances  of  a  circumstance  which  experience 
shows  to  have  real  connection  with  an  intelligent  origin,  the  fact 
of  conspiring  to  an  end.  The  argument,  therefore,  is  not  one  of 
mere  analogy.  As  mere  analogy  it  has  its  weight,  but  it  is  more 
than  analogy.  It  surpasses  analogy  exactly  as  induction  surpasses 
it.  It  is  an  inductive  argument.’’ 1 

But  the  argument  of  design  has  an  a  priori  basis  and 
consequently  is  universal  in  its  application.  Induction  itself, 
as  a  method  of  reasoning,  presupposes  what  is  termed  the 
uniformity  of  nature,  or  an  order  of  nature  —  an  established  asso¬ 
ciation  of  observed  antecedents  and  consequents.  This  convic¬ 
tion  is  not  one  of  the  intuitions  constitutive  of  reason,  and 
admitting  of  no  possible  or  conceivable  exception,  but  is  a 
belief  grounded  on  wide  and  long-continued  experience,  and 
thus  serving  as  a  “  working  postulate.”  But  the  idea  of  end 
or  purpose  as  implied  in  all  things  and  events,  like  the  idea  of 
what  is  termed  efficient  or  physical  or  mechanical  causation, 
has  a  strictly  a  priori  origin.  The  idea  of  final  purpose  arises  in 
our  own  experience  in  carrying  out  a  desire  by  means  chosen 
for  this  end.  We  are  not  less  prompted  to  ask  “what  for  ”  than 
to  ask  “  how.”  Mechanism  of  itself  explains  nothing.  The  very 
term  properly  signifies  means  to  an  end.  The  world,  if  conceived 
of  as  only  a  vast  mechanism,  would  be  a  fathomless  mystery  im¬ 
pervious  to  reason,2  and  not  what  it  really  is,  the  spectacle  of 
forces  realizing  ideas.  The  objection  that  to  attribute  design 
to  material  things  and  to  the  world  as  a  whole  is  anthropomor- 

1  Three  Essays  on  Religion  ;  Theism ,  pp.  169,  170. 

2  For  a  clear  exposition  and  proof  of  the  a  priori  basis  of  the  idea  of 
Design,  see  Ladd,  A  Theory  of  Reality,  ch.  xiv.  See  also,  Trendelenburg, 
Logische  Untersuchungen,  3d  ed.,  vol.  ii.  ch.  ix.,  Zweck ;  Dorner,  System  d. 
Christl.  Glanbenslehre,  vol.  i.  pp.  252-257  ;  N.  Porter,  The  Human  Intellect , 
pp.  592-619. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


33 


phic ,  has  no  real  weight.  It  shares  this  character  in  company 
with  the  idea  of  mechanical  causation.  In  each  case  the  human 
mind  finds  its  own  rational  constitution  reflected  and  embodied 
in  external  reality.1  Our  knowledge  of  the  world  without  con¬ 
sists  in  the  projection  of  the  categories  in  our  mental  processes 
into  things  without.  It  is  undeniable  that  nature  is  a  system,  or 
proceeds  according  to  a  plan.  The  postulate  of  science  is  the 
rationality  of  nature.  Science,  in  the  words  of  Huxley,  is  “  the  dis¬ 
covery  of  the  rational  order  that  pervades  the  universe.”  Without 
this  presupposition  of  a  rational  order,  scientific  investigation  would 
be  the  pursuit  of  a  chimera.  Nature,  it  is  taken  for  granted,  is  the 
embodiment  of  thoughts.  All  nature  is  but  a  book  which  science 
undertakes  to  decipher  and  read.  When  the  student  explores  any 
department  of  Nature,  it  is  to  unveil  its  laws  and  adaptations.2 

Because  Nature  is  a  rational  system,  it  is  adapted  to  our  cogni¬ 
tive  faculties.  This  correspondence  proves  that  the  author  of  the 
mind  is  the  author  of  “  the  mind  in  Nature.”  What  being,  says 
Cicero,  that  is  “  destitute  of  intellect  and  reason  could  have  pro¬ 
duced  these  things  which  not  only  had  need  of  reason  to  cause 
them  to  be,  but  which  are  such  as  can  be  understood  only  by  the 
highest  exertions  of  reason  ?” 2  What  are  the  laws  of  Nature? 
They  are  a  description  of  the  observed  and  customary  interaction 
of  things.  To  hypostatize  “  Law,”  either  in  the  singular  or  the 
plural,  if  more  than  a  figure  of  speech  is  meant,  is  to  set  up  a 
crude  species  of  Nature-worship.  Laws  are  the  rules  conform¬ 
ably  to  which  the  unitary  power  operative  in  Nature,  or,  if  one 
pleases  so  to  think,  the  multiple  forces  in  Nature,  act.  We  can¬ 
not  think  of  them  otherwise  than  as  prescribed,  as  ordained  to 
the  end  that  they  may  work  out  their  effects.  In  other  words, 
the  order  of  Nature  is  an  arrangement  of  intelligence.  This 
explains  the  joy  that  springs  up  in  the  mind  on  the  discovery 
of  some  great  law  which  gives  simplicity  to  seemingly  complex 
natural  phenomena.  Thought  gains  access  to  reality  through 
their  mutual  affinity.  The  mind  recognizes  something  akin  to 
itself.  It  discovers  a  thought  of  God.  The  norms  according  to 
which  the  knowing  faculty  discriminates,  connects,  and  classifies 
the  objects  in  Nature,  imply  that  Nature  herself  has  been  pre- 

1  What  is  deducible  a  priori  by  epistemological  argument  (see  above,  p.  1 8) 
can  be  shown  inductively. 

2  De  Nat.  Deorum,  ii.  44. 


34  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


arranged  according  to  the  same  norms,  or  is  the  product  of  mind. 
In  conformity  to  the  categories  —  time,  space,  quantity,  quality, 
etc.  —  according  to  which  the  mind  distinguishes  natural  objects, 
and  thus  comprehends  Nature,  Nature  has  been  framed.  That 
is  to  say,  there  is  mind  expressed  in  Nature. 


Science  is  the  statement  of  the  expressions  of  thought  and 
purpose  which  are  incorporated  in  Nature.  A  dog  sees  on  a 
printed  page  only  meaningless  marks  on  a  white  ground.  To  us 
they  contain  and  convey  ideas,  and  bring  us  into  communion  with 
the  mind  of  the  author.  So  it  is  with  Nature.  Take  a  book  of 
astronomy.  If  the  stellar  world  were  not  an  intellectual  system, 
such  a  work  would  be  impossible.  The  sky  itself  is  the  book 
which  the  astronomer  reads,  and  the  written  treatise  is  merely  a 
transcript  of  the  thoughts  which  he  finds  there.  This  truth  is  pre¬ 
sented  with  mubh  force  and  eloquence  by  one  of  the  most 
eminent  mathematicians  of  the  age,  the  late  Benjamin  Pierce. 
He  speaks  of  Nature  as  “  imbued  with  intelligible  thought,”1 
of  “the  amazing  intellectuality  inwrought  into  the  unconscious 
material  world,”  2  in  which  there  is  “  no  dark  corner  of  hopeless 
obscurity,”3  of  the  “dominion  of  intellectual  order  everywhere 


found,”4  “of  the  vast  intellectual  conceptions  in  Nature.”5  To 


ignore  God  as  the  author  of  Nature  as  well  as  of  mind  is  as 
absurd  as  to  make  “  the  anthem  the  offspring  of  unconscious 
sound.” 6  “  If  the  common  origin  of  mind  and  matter  is  con¬ 

ceded  to  reside  in  the  decree  of  a  Creator,  the  identity  ceases  to 
be  a  mystery.”7  Science  is  the  reflex  of  mind  in  Nature.  Nature 
is  made  up  of  interacting  objects  which  constitute  together  one 
complete  system.8  Order  reigns  in  Nature,  and  universal  harmony. 
Hence  all  these  separate  objects  must  be  so  fashioned  and  man¬ 
aged  that  they  shall  conspire  to  sustain  and  promote,  and  not  to 
convulse  and  subvert,  the  complex  whole.  It  follows  that  the 
existence  and  preservation  of  the  system  are  an  end  for  the 
realizing  of  which  the  plurality  of  forces  —  if  supposed  to  be  plural 
—  and  their  special  activities  are  the  means.  That  is,  Nature  in 
its  totality  exhibits  design. 

1  Pierce,  Ideality  in  the  Physical  Sciences  (1883),  p.  19. 

2  p.  20.  4  p.  25.  6  p.  32. 

3  p.  21.  6  p.  26.  7  p.  31. 

8  It  was  a  noble  title  of  Cuclworth,  however  ambitious  it  may  sound : 

“  The  True  Intellectual  System  of  the  Universe.” 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


35 


The  belief  in  design  has  been  at  the  root  of  scientific  discovery. 
It  has  suggested  the  hypotheses  which  investigation  has  verified. 
Such  was  the  source  of  Newton’s  discovery  of  the  law  of  gravita¬ 
tion.  Harvey  was  led  to  find  out  the  true  system  of  the  circula¬ 
tion  of  the  blood  by  observing  that  in  the  channels  through  which 
the  blood  flows,  one  set  of  valves  opens  toward  the  heart,  while 
another  set  opens  in  the  opposite  direction.  He  had  faith  in  the 
prudence  of  nature. 

Robert  Boyle  tells  us  :  — 

u  I  remember  that  when  I  asked  our  famous  Harvey  what  were  the 
things  that  induced  him  to  think  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  he 
answered  me,  that  when  he  took  notice  of  the  valves  in  many  parts  of 
the  body,  so  placed  that  they  gave  free  passage  to  the  blood  toward  the 
heart,  but  opposed  to  the  passage  of  the  venous  blood  the  contrary  way, 
he  was  invited  to  think  that  so  prudent  a  cause  as  nature  had  not  placed 
so  many  valves  without  a  design,  and  no  design  seemed  more  probable 
than  that,  since  the  blood  could  not  well,  because  of  the  intervening 
valves,  be  sent  by  the  veins  to  the  limits,  it  should  be  sent  through  the 
arteries,  and  returned  through  the  veins,  whose  valves  did  not  oppose 
its  course  that  way.” 

Kepler  was  moved  to  his  discoveries  by  “  an  exalted  faith, 
anterior  and  superior  to  all  science,  in  the  existence  of  intimate 
relations  between  the  constitution  of  man’s  mind  and  that  of 
God’s  firmament.”  1  Such  a  faith  is  at  the  root  of  “  the  prophetic 
inspiration  of  the  geometers,”  which  the  progress  of  observation 
verifies. 

The  distinction  between  order  and  design,  in  the  popular 
sense  of  the  term,  —  meaning  special  adaptations,  —  is  a  valid  and 
important  one.  Especially  is  this  discrimination  to  be  borne  in 
mind  since  the  advent  of  the  modern  theories  of  evolution.  j>v 
order  we  mean  the  reign  of  law  and  the  harmony  of  the  world 
resulting  from  it.  Both  order  and  the  relation  of  means  to  special 
ends  imply  intelligent  purpose.  Both  order  and  special  adapta¬ 
tion  may  and  do  coexist,  but  they  are  distinguishable  from  one 
another.  For  example,  the  typical  unity  of  animals  of  the  verte¬ 
brate  class,  or  their  conformity  in  structure  to  a  typical  idea,  is  an 
example  of  order.  The  fitness  of  the  foot  for  walking,  the  wing 
for  flying,  the  fin  for  swimming,  is  an  instance  of  special  adapta¬ 
tion.  In  either  case  there  is  an  immanence  of  ideas. 


1  Pierce,  Ideality  in  the  Physical  Sciences ,  p.  1 7. 


3 6  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


What  is  meant  by  the  explanation  of  any  object  of  nature? 
What  is  it  to  explain  any  particular  organ  in  a  living  being  ?  What 
is  it  but  to  define  its  end?  There  can  be  no  explanation  of  an. 
organism  which  does  not  presuppose  adaptation.  This  is  the 
meaning  of  organism  :  one  whole  composed  of  mutually  depend¬ 
ent  parts.  Says  Janet :  — 

“  Laplace  perceived  that  the  simplest  laws  are  the  most  likely  to  be 
true.  But  I  do  not  see  why  it  should  be  so  on  the  supposition  of  an 
absolutely  blind  cause ;  for,  after  all,  the  inconceivable  swiftness  which 
the  system  of  Ptolemy  supposed  has  nothing  physically  impossible  in 
it,  and  the  complication  of  movements  has  nothing  incompatible  with 
the  idea  of  a  mechanical  cause.  Why,  then,  do  we  expect  to  find  sim¬ 
ple  movements  in  nature,  and  speed  in  proportion,  except  because  we  in¬ 
stinctively  attribute  a  sort  of  intelligence  and  choice  to  the  First  Cause?” 

Janet  does  not  consider  the  idea  of  design  to  be  a  priori.  But 
this  question,  and  the  whole  paragraph  which  we  are  quoting, 
imply  it.  He  goes  on  to  say  :  — 

“  Now,  experience  justifies  this  hypothesis ;  at  least  it  did  so  with 
Copernicus  and  Galileo.  It  did  so,  according  to  Laplace,  in  the  debate 
between  Clairaut  and  Buffon  ;  the  latter  maintaining  against  the  former 
that  the  law  of  attraction  remained  the  same  at  all  distances.  ‘  This 
time,1  says  Laplace,  ( the  metaphysician  was  right  as  against  the  geome¬ 
trician.1  11 1 

(Teleology  is  evident  in  the  structure  of  plants  as  truly  as  in  the 
structure  of  animals.  The  development  and  grovvth,  the  forms 
and  colors,  the  habits,  of  plants  presuppose  and  reveal  the 
idea  which  is  directive  of  the  energy  operative  in  their  produc¬ 
tion.  Energy  is  not  a  substance.  It  is  power  dependent  on 
guidance.  The  energy  through  which  the  tree,  in  defiance  of 
inanimate  forces,  like  gravitation,  rises  in  the  air,  clothes  itself 
in  foliage  and  bears  its  proper  fruit,  until  the  antagonistic  elements 
win  the  victory,  and  it  yields  to  the  verdict,  “  earth  to  earth,” 
carries  out  an  idea  inseparable  from  it.  “  However  we  resolve  the 
problem  as  to  the  connection  of  mind  and  matter,  it  is  unques¬ 
tionably  a  simplification  to  infer  that  wherever  a  material  system 
is  organized  for  self-maintenance,  growth,  and  reproduction,  as  an 
individual  in  touch  with  an  environment,  that  system  has  a  psy¬ 
chical  as  well  as  a  material  aspect.”  2  The  supposition  of  an  inher- 
1  Final  Causes ,  p.  168. 

2  Ward,  Naturalism  and  Agnosticism ,  vol.  i.  p.  285.  See,  also,  the  context 
of  this  remark. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


37 


ent  “  mind-stuff  ”  is  self-contradictory  and  absurd,  but  not  more 
absurd  than  the  supposition  of  a  mindless  energy. 

When  the  root  of  a  tree  is  observed  to  strike  a  path  through 
the  sand  in  quest  of  moisture,  the  rustic  gardener  has  been  known 
to  express  his  recognition  of  design  and  of  an  inward  stimulus  by 
saying  that  “  the  root  sees  what  it  needs.”  In  the  inorganic 
realm,  teleology  is  less  striking,  and  may  not  be  in  a  form  to 
excite  attention.  So  the  question  as  to  mechanical  causes  may 
fail  to  suggest  itself  to  the  casual  observer.  But  to  the  en¬ 
lightened  student,  to  the  mineralogist,  the  geologist,  the  chemist, 
the  manifestation  of  controlling  ideas  or  ends  is  not  thus  obscure.1 
There  are  “sermons  in  stones.”  In  the  structure  of  the  globe 
are  revealed  an  historic  rise  and  a  progress  from  step  to  step.2 

The  evidences  of  controlling  intelligence  are  peculiarly  impres¬ 
sive  in  the  organic  kingdom.  The  very  idea  of  an  organism  is 
that  every  part  is  at  once  means  and  end.  Naturalists,  whatever 
their  opinion  about  final  causes,  cannot  describe  plants  and  ani¬ 
mals  without  perpetually  using  language  which  implies  intention 
as  disclosed  in  their  structure.  “  Biological  facts  cannot  be  known 
at  all  except  in  relation  to  some  teleological  conception.”  3  The 
“  provisions”  of  nature,  the  “  purpose  ”  of  an  organ,  the  “  posses¬ 
sion  ”  of  a  part,  “  in  order  that  ”  something  may  be  done  or  averted, 
—  such  phraseology  is  not  only  common,  it  is  well-nigh  unavoid¬ 
able.  The  very  word  “  function  ”  means  the  appropriate  action 
or  assigned  part.  No  writer  uses  the  language  of  teleology  more 
spontaneously  and  abundantly  than  Darwin.  Huxley  speaks  of 
“  every  part  ”  of  an  organism  “  becoming  gradually  and  slowly 
fashioned,  as  if  there  were  an  artificer  at  work  in  each  of  these 
complex  structures.”  “  Step  by  step,”  he  tells  us,  “  naturalists 
have  come  to  the  idea  of  a  unity  of  plan,  or  conformity  of  con¬ 
struction,  among  animals  which  appeared  at  first  sight  to  be  ex¬ 
tremely  dissimilar.”  4 

It  is  when  we  consider  the  human  body  in  its  relation  to  the 
mind,  that  the  most  vivid  perception  of  design  is  awakened.  To 

1  Striking  illustrations  of  “  God’s  plan  ”  are  presented  in  the  Lectures  on 
Religion  and  Chemistry  by  Prof.  J.  P.  Cooke  (1864).  It  is  shown  what 
mighty  forces,  so  to  speak,  are  leashed,  as  it  were,  in  the  atmosphere  and  its 
elements. 

2  For  proofs  of  design  in  Beauty,  see  Newman  Smyth’s  Through  Nature  to 

Faith ,  ch.  vii.  3  Ladd,  Theory  of  Reality,  p.  379. 

4  Huxley,  Collected  Essays,  vol.  ii.  pp.  319,  325. 


38  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


one  not  fettered  to  the  opinion  that  the  mind  is  itself  the  product 
of  organization,  and  every  purpose  which  the  mind  forms  a  phe¬ 
nomenon  of  matter  —  a  phenomenon  as  necessary  in  its  origin  as 
the  motion  of  the  lungs  —  that  is,  to  every  one  who  is  conscious 
of  being  able  to  initiate  action,  the  adaptation  of  his  bodily  organs 
to  the  service  of  his  intelligence  is  obvious  and  striking.  The 
hand  bears  more  clearly  marks  of  being  designed,  than  the  tools 
which  the  hand  makes.  The  eye  displays  contrivance  more  im¬ 
pressively  than  the  optical  instruments  which  man  can  contrive 
and  fashion  for  the  eye  to  use.  I  distinguish  myself  from  the  eye, 
and  from  my  body  of  which  the  eye  is  a  part ;  and  I  know  that 
the  eye  was  made  for  me  to  see  with.  The  end  of  its  existence 
is  apparent.  It  is  what  the  word  “  eye  ”  signifies.  When  we  con¬ 
sider  the  adaptation  of  the  sexes  to  one  another,  the  physical  and 
moral  arrangements  of  Nature  which  result  in  the  family,  in  the 
production  and  rearing  of  offspring ;  and  when  we  contemplate 
the  relation  of  the  family  to  the  state  and  the  relation  of  the  fam¬ 
ily  and  the  state  to  the  kingdom  of  God,  where  the  ideas  and 
affections  developed  in  the  family  and  in  the  state  connect  them¬ 
selves  with  higher  objects,  the  evidences  of  a  preconceived  plan 
seem  irresistible. 

It  is  objected  that  in  all  the  works  of  man  the  efficient  cause  is 
distinct  and  separate  from  the  object  in  which  the  end  is  realized. 
In  Nature,  we  are  told,  the  efficient  cause  operates  from  within, 
and  appears  to  work  out  the  end  without  conscious  purpose.  The 
forces  of  Nature,  it  is  alleged,  appear  to  produce  the  order  and  vari¬ 
ety  and  beauty  which  we  behold,  of  themselves,  through  no  exter¬ 
nal  compulsion,  and  at  the  same  time  without  consciousness.  In 
an  organism  the  structure  grows  up,  repairs  itself,  and  perpetuates 
itself  by  reproduction ;  but,  it  is  averred,  the  active  force  by 
which  these  ends  are  fulfilled  is  not  in  the  least  aware  of  what  it  is 
doing.  Thus,  it  is  contended,  the  analogy  fails  between  the  arti¬ 
ficial  products  of  human  ingenuity  and  the  works  of  Nature.  It  is 
a  blind  intelligence,  it  is  said,  performing  works  resembling  those 
which  man  does,  often  less  perfectly,  with  conscious  design.  With¬ 
out  here  subjecting  to  scrutiny  this  supposition  of  multiple  unin¬ 
telligent  forces  in  Nature,  it  is  still  indisputable  that,  if  matter 
is  “  blind,”  incapable  of  foreseeing  the  end  to  be  attained, 
and  of  selecting  appropriate  means,  it  is  necessary  to  connect  it 
with  the  operation  of  an  intelligent  author  and  his  present  agency. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


39 


The  accurate  mathematics  of  the  planetary  bodies,  the  unerring 
path  of  the  birds,  the  geometry  of  the  bee,  the  seed-corn  sending 
upward  the  blossoming  and  fruit-bearing  stalk,  excite  a  wonder,  the 
secret  of  which  is  the  evident  inadequacy  of  any  “  blind  ”  power 
to  effect  these  marvels  of  intelligence  and  foresight. 

A  popular  objection  to  the  argument  of  design  imputes  to  it  the 
fallacy  of  confounding  use  with  forethought  or  intention.  Is  not 
the  eye  for  seeing?  Yes,  it  is  answered,  that  is  its  use  or  function  ; 
but  this  is  not  to  say  that  it  was  planned  for  this  use  or  function, 
for,  when  you  affirm  design,  you  go  back  to  a  mental  act.  The 
rejoinder  is,  that  we  are  driven  back  to  such  a  mental  act,  and 
thus  to  a  designing  intelligence.  The  relation  of  the  constitution 
of  the  organ  to  the  use  irresistibly  prompts  the  inference.  The 
inference  is  no  arbitrary  fancy.  Design  is  brought  home  to  us, 
just  as  the  relation  of  the  structure  of  a  telescope  to  its  use  would 
of  itself  compel  us  to  attribute  it  to  a  contriving  intelligence. 

It  is  objected  to  the  argument  of  design  that  what  are  styled 
adaptations,  are  nothing  but  “  the  conditions  of  existence  ”  of 
objects  in  nature.  These  conditions  being  what  they  are,  the 
various  objects  in  which  design  is  supposed  to  be  shown  could  not 
be  different  from  what  they  are.  For  example,  the  bird  is  said 
to  be  adapted  to  the  air  through  which  it  flies,  and,  it  is  said, 
could  not  exist  but  for  the  air  in  which  its  wings  are  moved. 
The  objection  is  equivalent  to  an  attempt  to  explain  the  objects 
of  nature  by  mechanical  agencies  and  conditions.  If  the  existence 
of  the  bird  were  traceable  to  primitive  atoms,  it  would  follow  that 
these  are  purposeful. 

In  truth  we  find  jise  so  related  to  structui'e  that  the  thought  of 
design  springs  up  unbidden. 

By  clear-sighted  naturalists  who  give  large  room  for  the  potential¬ 
ity  of  protoplasm  and  its  plasticity  under  the  conditions  of  environ¬ 
ment,  design  is  recognized  as  the  means  to  a  preconceived  end. 
Function  or  future  use  is  seen  to  be  the  formative  idea  which 
specializes  organs,  and  determines  structure.  An  acute  naturalist 
thus  writes  upon  sexual  differences,  one  of  the  most  impressive 
illustrations  of  design  :  — 

“  Instead  of  thus  eliminating  by  degrees  every  trace  of  finality  in  sex¬ 
uality,  till  we  merge  into  merely  mechanical  results,  is  it  not  just  as  log¬ 
ical  to  say  that  the  sexuality  of  mammalia  and  flowering  plants  was 
potentially  visible  in  the  conjugation  of  monera  and  plasmodia  ?  and 


40  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


that  the  1  sexual  idea1  has  reigned  throughout,  function  ever  dominating 
structure,  till  the  latter  had  conformed  to  the  more  complete  function  by 
becoming  specialized  more  and  more?  Or,  in  the  words  of  Janet,  i  The 
agreement  of  several  phenomena,  bound  together  with  a  future  determi¬ 
nate  phenomenon,  supposes  a  cause  in  which  that  future  phenomenon  is 
ideally  represented ;  and  the  probability  of  the  presumption  increases 
with  the  complexity  of  the  concordant  phenomena  and  the  number  of 
relations  which  unite  them  to  the  final  phenomena.1 11 1 

The  writer  last  named  also  observes  :  — 

“  Finality  is  certainly  not  destroyed,  whether  we  believe  organs  to 
have  been  developed  by  evolution,  or  to  have  been  created  in  some  an¬ 
alogous  manner  to  the  fabrication  of  a  steam-engine  by  man.  For  my 
own  part,  I  still  hold  to  the  theory  that  uses  cause  adaptations ,  on  the 
principle  that  function  precedes  structure.  Thus  as  a  graminivorous 
animal  has  its  food  already  (so  to  say)  cut  up  into  slices  in  grass-blades, 
it  does  not  require  scissors  to  reduce  it  to  small  pieces  in  order  to  make 
a  convenient  mouthful.  But  a  carnivorous  animal  has  a  large  lump  of 
flesh  in  the  shape  of  a  carcass.  It  requires  to  cut  it  up.  The  action  of 
biting,  in  order  to  do  this  previous  to  masticating,  has  converted  its 
teeth  into  scissor-like  carnassials ;  and,  as  it  can  no  longer  masticate,  it 
bolts  the  pieces  whole.  So,  too,  man  would  never  have  thought  of  mak¬ 
ing  scissors,  unless  he  had  had  something  that  he  wanted  to  cut  up. 
The  parallel  is  complete ;  only  in  the  one  case  it  is  spontaneously  ef¬ 
fected  by  the  plasticity  and  adaptability  of  living  matter,  and  in  the  other 
case  it  is  artificially  produced  by  the  consciousness  and  skill  of  man.11 2 

To  revert  once  more  to  the  human  eye  :  it  is  an  instrument  em¬ 
ployed  by  a  rational  being  for  a  purpose,  as  he  employs  a  telescope 
or  a  microscope.  When  we  see  how  the  eye  is  fitted  to  its  use,  we 
cannot  resist  the  impression  that  it  was  intended  for  it.  The  idea 
of  the  organ  we  discern.  As  Whewell  well  puts  it :  “  We  have  in  our 
minds  the  idea  of  a  final  cause,  and  when  we  behold  the  eye,  we 
see  our  idea  exemplified.  This  idea  then  governed  the  construc¬ 
tion  of  the  eye,  be  its  mechanical  causes,  the  operative  agencies 
that  produced  it  what  they  may.”  “  Nothing,”  says  an  able 
writer,  “  has  been  proved  against  final  causes  when  organic  effects 
have  been  reduced  to  their  proximate  causes  and  to  their  deter¬ 
mining  conditions.  It  will  be  said,  for  instance,  that  it  is  not 
wonderful  that  the  heart  contracts,  since  it  is  a  muscle,  and  con- 

1  Janet,  Final  Causes ,  p.  55.  “Final  Causes,”  by  Mr.  George  Henslow,  in 
Modern  Reviezv ,  January,  1881. 

2  Modern  Review ,  loc.  cit.,  p.  66. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


41 


tractility  is  an  essential  property  of  muscles.  But  is  it  not  evident 
that  if  nature  wished  to  make  a  heart  that  contracts,  it  behooved  to 
employ  for  this  a  contractile  tissue,  and  would  it  not  be  very  aston¬ 
ishing  were  it  otherwise  ?  Have  we  thereby  explained  the  wonder¬ 
ful  structure  of  the  heart  and  the  skilful  mechanism  shown  in  it? 
Muscular  contractility  explains  the  contraction  of  the  heart ;  but 
this  general  property,  which  is  common  to  all  muscles,  does  not 
suffice  to  explain  how  or  why  the  heart  contracts  in  one  way 
rather  than  another,  why  it  has  taken  such  a  form  and  not  such 
another.  ‘  The  peculiarity  presented  by  the  heart,’  says  M.  Cl. 
Bernard,  ‘  is  that  the  muscular  fibres  are  arranged  in  it  so  as  to 
form  a  sort  of  bag,  within  which  is  found  the  liquid  blood.  The 
contraction  of  these  fibres  causes  a  diminution  of  the  size  of  this 
bag,  and  consequently  an  expulsion,  at  least  in  part,  of  the  liquid 
it  contains.  The  arrangement  of  the  valves  gives  to  the  expelled 
liquid  the  suitable  direction.’  Now  the  precise  question  which 
here  occupies  the  thinker  is,  how  it  happens  that  Nature,  employ¬ 
ing  a  contractile  tissue,  has  given  it  the  suitable  structure  and 
arrangement,  and  how  it  rendered  it  fit  for  the  special  and  capital 
function  of  the  circulation.” 

“  The  elementary  properties  of  the  tissues  are  the  necessary  conditions 
of  which  Nature  makes  use  to  solve  the  problem,  but  they  in  no  way 
explain  how  it  has  succeeded  in  solving  it.  Moreover,  M.  Cl.  Bernard 
[a-learned  physiologist]  does  not  decline  the  inevitable  comparison 
of  the  organism  with  the  works  of  human  industry,  and  even  often 
recurs  to  it,  as,  for  instance,  when  he  says  ;  i  the  heart  is  essentially  a 
living  ?)iotor  machine ,  a  force-pump  destined  to  send  into  all  the  organs  a 
liquid  to  nourish  them.  ...  At  all  degrees  of  the  animal  scale,  the 
heart  fulfils  this  function  of  mechanical  irrigation .’  ...  ‘We  may 
compare,1  he  says,  ‘  the  histological  elements  to  the  materials  man 
employs  to  raise  a  monument.  .  .  .  No  doubt,  in  order  that  a  house 
may  exist,  the  stones  composing  it  must  have  the  property  of  gravita¬ 
tion  ;  but  does  this  property  explain  how  the  stones  form  a  house  ?’” 1 

It  might  be  said  of  a  locomotive  that  —  the  boiler  of  iron,  with 
its  capacity  to  hold  water,  being  present,  and  the  water  being  in  it, 
and  fire  beneath  it,  and  a  chimney  above  for  the  smoke  to  escape, 
and  pipes  through  which  steam  can  pass  connected  with  the  boiler 
and  wheels  beneath  on  which  the  locomotive  can  roll  —  it  is  suffi¬ 
ciently  explained.  But  the  combination  of  these  parts,  in  their 

1  Janet,  Final  Cateses,  pp.  129-131. 


f 


42  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


peculiar  forms,  and  relation  of  the  whole  to  that  which  the  loco¬ 
motive  does,  are  things  which  the  foregoing  statement  altogether 
fails  to  account  for. 

Kant  has  two  criticisms  on  the  argument  of  design.  The..  first 
is,  that  it  can  go  no  farther  than  to  prove  an  architect  or  framer  of 
the  world,,  not  a  creator  of  matter.  But  the  special  aim  of  the 
argument  is  to  prove  that  the  First  Cause  is  intelligent.  We 
will  suppose  for  the  moment  that  matter  is  such  an  entity  as  the 
criticism  implies.  The  conclusion  that  the  author  of  the  wonder¬ 
ful  order  which  is  wrought  in  and  through  matter  is  also  the 
author  of  matter  itself  still  appears  probable.  For  how  can  the 
properties  of  matter  through  which  it  is  adapted  to  the  use  of 
being  moulded  by  intelligence,  be  separated  from  matter  itself  ? 
What  is  matter  divorced  from  its  properties?  We  cannot  under¬ 
stand  creation,  because  we  cannot  create.  The  nearest  approach 
to  creative  activity  is  in  the  production  of  good  and  evil  by  our 
own  voluntary  action.  How  God  creates  is  a  mystery  which  can¬ 
not  be  fathomed,  at  least  until  we  know  better  what  matter  is. 
Philosophers  of  high  repute  so  far  favor  hypotheses  akin  to  the 
Berkeleian,  as  to  dispense  with  a  substratum  of  matter,  and  to  as¬ 
cribe  the  percepts  of  sense  to  the  continuous  action  of  the  will  of 
the  Almighty.  Whatever  matter  may  be  in  its  essence,  we  know 
that  there  is  an  ultimate,  unconditioned  cause.  We  know  that  this 
cause  is  intelligent  and  free.  To  suppose  that  by  the  side  of  the 
eternal  Spirit  there  is  another  eternal  and  self-existent  being, 
the  raw  matter  of  the  world,  “  without  form  and  void,”  involves 
the  absurdity  of  two  Absolutes  limiting  each  other. 

The  second  difficulty  raised  by  Kant  is,  that  the  existence  of  a 
strictly  infinite  being  cannot  be  demonstrated  from  a  finite  creation, 
however  extensive  or  wondrous.  All  that  can  be  inferred  demon¬ 
stratively  is  inconceivably  vast  power  and  wisdom.  The  validity 
of  this  objection  may  be  conceded.  The  infinitude  of  the  attri¬ 
butes  of  God  is  involved  in  the  intuition  of  an  unconditioned 
being, — the  being  glimpses  of  whose  attributes  are  disclosed  to 
us  in  the  order  of  the  finite  world. 

These  objections  of  Kant  are  in  the  Critique  of  Pure  Reason. 
Elsewhere  he  brings  forward  an  additional  consideration.  Admit¬ 
ting  that  the  idea  of  design  is  essential  to  our  comprehension  of 
the  world,  he  raises  the  point  that  it  may  be  subjective  only,  regu¬ 
lative  of  our  perceptions,  but  not  objective  or  “  constitutive.” 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


43 


Not  regarding  the  idea  of  design  as  a  priori ,  like  the  idea  of 
causation,  he  inquires  whether  it  may  not  be  a  mere  supposition,  a 
working  hypothesis,  which  a  deeper  penetration  of  Nature  might 
dispense  with.  It  is  a  sufficient  answer  to  this  scepticism  that  the 
thought  of  design  is  not  artificially  originated  by  ourselves  ;  it  is  a 
conviction  which  the  objects  of  Nature  themselves  “imperiously” 
suggest  and  bring  home  to  us.  As  Janet  and  other  critics  of  Kant 
have  pointed  out,  there  are  two  classes  of  hypotheses.  Of  one 
class  it  is  true  that  they  are  regarded  as  corresponding  with  the 
true  nature  of  things  ;  of  the  other,  that  they  are  only  a  convenient 
means  for  the  mind  to  conceive  them.  The  question  is,  whether 
an  hypothesis  is  warranted  by  the  facts,  and  is  perceived  veritably 
to  represent  Nature.  In  the  proportion  in  which  it  does  this,  its 
verity  acquires  fresh  corroboration.  Of  this  character  is  the 
hypothesis  of  design. 

We  infer  the  existence  of  an  intelligent  Deity,  as  we  infer  the 
existence  of  intelligence  in  our  fellow-men,  and  on  grounds  not 
less  reasonable. 

“We  are  spirits  clad  in  veils, 

Man  by  man  was  never  seen  ; 

All  our  deep  communing  fails 
To  remove  the  shadowy  screen.” 

My  senses  take  no  cognizance  of  the  minds  of  other  men.  I  per¬ 
ceive  certain  motions  of  their  bodies.  I  hear  certain  sounds 
proceeding  from  their  lips.  What  right  have  I,  from  these  purely 
physical  phenomena,  to  infer  the  presence  of  an  intelligence 
behind  them?  What  proof  is  there  of  the  consciousness  in  the 
friend  at  my  side?  How  can  I  be  assured  that  he  is  not  a  mere 
automaton,  totally  unconscious  of  its  own  movements  ?  The  war¬ 
rant  for  the  contrary  inference  lies  in  the  fact,  that  being  possessed 
of  consciousness,  and  acquainted  with  its  effects  in  myself,  I  regard 
like  effects  as  evidence  of  the  same  principle  in  others.  But  in  this 
inference  I  transcend  the  limits  of  sense  and  physical  experiment. 
In  truth,  in  admitting  the  reality  of  consciousness  in  myself,  I  take 
a  step  which  no  physical  observation  can  justify.  Were  the  brain 
opened  to  view,  no  microscope,  were  its  power  immeasurably  aug¬ 
mented,  could  discover  the  least  trace  of  it. 

The  alternative  of  design  is  chance.  The  Epicurean  theory,  as 
expounded  by  the  Roman  poet  Lucretius,  made  the  world  the  re- 


44  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


suit  of  the  fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms,  which  in  their  motions 
and  concussions,  at  length  fell  into  the  orderly  forms  in  which 
they  abide.1  The  term  “  chance  ”  does  not  denote  the  absence  of 
cause  —  which  would  be  an  absurd  supposition.  The  terms 
“chance  ”  and  “accident”  are  applied  to  events  undesigned  and 
unforeseen. 

We  use  these  words  to  denote  an  occurrence,  or  an  object  the 
particular  cause  of  which  is  not  detected,  and  which  bears  in  it 
evident  marks  of  forethought.  I  drop  a  handful  of  coins  on  the 
floor.  They  fly  in  different  directions,  and  the  directions  in  which 
they  fly,  we  say,  are  due  to  chance.  On  the  theory  which  we  are 
considering,  the  world  is  accounted  for  as  the  final  result  of  what 
is  equivalent  to  an  almost  infinite  succession  of  throws  of  dice. 
This  cannot  be  said  to  be  literally  impossible,  as  it  is  not  literally 
impossible  that  a  font  of  types  thrown  into  the  air  should  come 
down  in  the  form  of  Homer’s  Iliad.  It  is,  however,  so  unlikely 
an  occurrence  as  to  be  next  to  impossible.  Imagine  time  to  be 
given  for  the  repetition  of  the  experiment  billions  of  times  —  the 
unlikelihood  of  the  issue  is  not  perceptibly  diminished.  Cicero, 
commenting  on  this  theory  of  the  Epicureans,  after  speaking  of 
the  vast  orderly  system  of  things  beheld  above  us  and  ground  us, 
exclaims  :  “  Is  it  possible  for  any  man  to  behold  these  things,  and 
yet  imagine  that  certain  solid  and  individual  bodies  move  by  their 
natural  force  and  gravitation,  and  that  a  world  so  beautifully  adorned 
was  made  by  their  fortuitous  concourse?  He  who  believes  this 
may  as  well  believe  that  if  a  great  quantity  of  the  one-and-twenty 
letters  —  ”  the  number  of  the  letters  in  the  Roman  alphabet — • 
“  composed  of  gold  or  of  any  other  matter,  were  thrown  upon  the 
ground,  they  would  fall  into  such  order  as  legibly  to  form  the 
Annals  of  Ennius.  ...  If  a  concourse  of  atoms  can  make  a 
world,  why  not  a  porch,  a  temple,  a  house,  a  city,  which  are 
works  of  less  labor  and  difficulty?”2  But  assume  that  the  order 
of  the  universe  is  possible.  The  question  is  not  whether  it  is  pos¬ 
sible,  but  whether  it  is  possible  without  an  intelligent  cause.  The 
Strasburg  Minster  is  possible,  but  not  possible  without  an  archi¬ 
tect  and  builder. 

If  we  accept  the  Lucretian  hypothesis  of  the  origin  of  the  mate¬ 
rial  universe,  as  we  behold  it,  from  the  movements  of  atoms  after 
countless  myriads  of  chaotic  combinations,  we  do  not  get  rid  of 

1  De  Rerum  Natura ,  i.  1021-1028.  2  De  Nat.  Deorum ,  ii.  37. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


45 


the  proof  of  design.  Why  did  the  multitudinous  atoms  fail  to 
combine  in  an  orderly  and  stable  way  up  to  the  moment  when  the 
existing  cosmos  was  reached  ?  Manifestly  they  must  have  been, 
in  their  constitution  and  mutual  relations,  adapted  to  constitute 
the  present  structure  of  things,  and  no  other.  The  present 
system  was  anticipated  in  the  very  make  of  the  atoms,  the  constit¬ 
uent  elements  of  the  universe.  The  atoms,  then,  present  the  same 
evidences  of  design  which  the  outcome  of  their  revolutions  presents. 
We  might  be  at  a  loss  to  explain  why  the  Author  of  Nature  chose 
this  circuitous  way  to  the  goal ;  but  that  the  goal  was  in  view  from 
the  beginning  is  evident.  The  difficulty  of  getting  rid  of  the  evi¬ 
dence  of  final  cause  is  illustrated  in  the  circumstance  that  Haeckel 
actually  attributes  to  atoms  desire  and  aversion,  or  a  soul  both  sen¬ 
tient  and  volitional ! 1 

The  doctrine  of  evolution  plays  so  conspicuous  a  part  in  the 
later  discussions  of  Theism,  that,  at  the  risk  of  some  repetition,  it 
is  worth  while  to  examine  critically  its  bearing  on  teleology.  This 
doctrine  undertakes  to  explain  the  diversity  of  animal  species 
without  resort  to  special  acts  of  creation.  As  propounded  by 
Darwin,  it  refers  the  origin  of  species  to  descent  from  a  few  pro¬ 
genitors,  the  origin  of  whom,  in  his  work  on  this  subject,  he  ab¬ 
stains  from  discussing.  Some  would  extend  evolutionary  theory 
so  far  as  to  make  life  itself  a  development  from  inorganic  forms, 
a  view  which  thus  far  lacks  support  from  scientific  observation  or 
experiment.  In  its  widest  extension,  the  network  of  evolutionary 
production  is  stretched  over  all  things,  living  and  lifeless,  as  far 
back  as  a  nebulous  vapor.  Of  those  who  believe  in  a  genetic  con¬ 
nection  of  animal  organisms,  some  hold  to  “  heterogenetic  gen¬ 
eration,”  the  production  of  new  species  by  leaps,  or  by  the 
metamorphosis  of  germs.  Darwin’s  theory  is  that  of  unbroken 
development  through  minute  variations.  The  law  of  heredity, 
under  which  like  produces  like,  does  not  exclude  in  offspring 
slight  variations  without  number.  Darwin  conceded  that  some 
inheritable  variations  might  be  produced  by  the  conditions  of  the 
environment,  but  he  maintained  that,  were  variations  perfectly 
indefinite  in  direction,  his  explanation  of  the  origin  of  species 
would  be  tenable.  The  three  causes  in  operation  are  the  ten- 

1  See  the  passage,  with  comments,  in  J.  Martineau,  Types  of  Ethical  Theory , 
vol.  ii.  B.  ii.  Br.  i.  §  6,  2d  ed.  p.  399;  also  his  Study  of  Religion ,  vol.  i.  p.  202. 


4 6  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


dency  of  offspring  to  reproduce  the  forms  of  immediate  or  more 
or  less  remote  ancestors,  which  Huxley  denominates  Atavism ,  the 
check  on  this  tendency  by  a  certain  tendency  to  variation,  and  an 
influence  from  external  conditions,  such,  for  example,  as  climate.1 
Among  innumerable  variations  in  structure,  some  are  of  such  a 
nature  as  to  give  an  advantage  in  the  struggle  for  food  and,  gen¬ 
erally  speaking,  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  There  ensues  —  in 
the  phrase  suggested  by  Spencer  —  “  the  survival  of  the  fittest.” 
As  the  effect  of  mating  and  propagation,  these  profitable  varia¬ 
tions  grow,  thereby  imparting  increased  power,  and  lines  of  de¬ 
marcation  are  created  and  perpetuated.  Thus,  in  inconceivably 
long  periods,  definite  and  stable  species  arise.  The  process  is 
called  “  natural  selection,”  being  analogous  to  the  course  pur¬ 
sued  in  artificial  breeding.  The  final  effect  of  this  kind  of  snail- 
like  advance  through  countless  millenniums  appears  at  last  in  the 
production  of  the  human  species.  Another  agency  besides  that 
of  the  struggle  for  existence,  that  of  sexual  preference,  is  a  factor 
in  working  out  the  actual  results  of  natural  selection. 

The  Darwinian  doctrine,  properly  defined,  lends  additional 
strength  to  the  argument  of  design.  It  brings  before  us  a  com¬ 
prehensive  system,  which  advances  from  the  lowest  forms  of  ani¬ 
mal  life  until  the  terminus  is  reached  in  man.  To  quote  the  words 
of  an  eminent  physiologist,  Dr.  W.  B.  Carpenter  :  — 

“The  evidence  of  final  causes  is  not  impaired.  ‘We  simply,’  to  use 
the  language  of  Whewell,  ‘  transfer  the  notion  of  design  and  end  from 
the  region  of  facts  to  that  of  laws ;  ’  that  is,  from  the  particular  cases 
to  the  general  plan.  In  this  general  plan  the  production  of  man  is 
comprehended.” 

At  the  same  time,  evolutionary  theory  does  not  annul  the  evi¬ 
dence  of  adaptation  in  particular  instances  —  in  the  eye,  for  ex¬ 
ample —  when  regarded  in  its  place  and  function  in  the  human 
body,  as  the  organ  of  vision.  This  function  is  so  clear  and  unde¬ 
niable  that,  whatever  opinion  may  be  held  of  the  nature  of  per¬ 
ception  as  a  mental  act,  to  withstand  the  proof  of  intention  in 
the  structure  of  this  organ  of  vision  is  well-nigh  impossible. 
Had  Paley  claimed  for  the  principle  of  design  an  a  priot'i  basis 
and  a  universal  application,  it  would  have  been  well.  Critics  of 
Paley,  however,  seem  often  to  forget  that  he  devotes  a  whole 

1  Huxley,  Collected  Essays,  vol.  ii.  pp.  397-403. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


47 


chapter  (ch.  ii.)  to  maintaining  his  ground  on  the  supposition 
that  the  watch  had  the  property  of  producing  in  the  course  of  its 
movement  another  watch  like  itself.  But  the  countless  particular 
instances  in  Nature,  when  seen  in  their  connection  and  place  in  the 
entire  system,  give  to  the  proof  of  foresight  and  plan  a  redoubled 
force.  Besides  the  single  pillar,  however  exquisitely  carved,  we 
behold  its  relation  to  the  vast  edifice  in  which  it  has  a  fitting  place. 
The  system  of  animate  beings  has  been  likened  to  the  cathedral  of 
St.  Mark,  which  owes  its  greatness  “  to  the  patient  hands  of  cen¬ 
turies  and  centuries  of  workers,”  and  is  built  up  from  materials 
drawn  from  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  After  this  analogy,  the 
lower  forms  of  animal  life  have  contributed  to  the  upbuilding  of 
the  human  body.  Even  foreshadowings  of  mind  antedate  that 
stage  of  being  wherein  man,  with  his  introspective  vision  and  gift 
of  language,  is  differentiated  from  the  animal  species  beneath  him. 
But  man,  erect  in  form,  with  reason  enabling  him  to  comprehend 
Nature,  to  know  himself  and  the  world  of  which  he  is  a  part,  and 
with  conscience  and  the  capacity  of  religion  —  man  is  the  goal  to 
which  Nature  from  the  outset  points.  Now,  when  man  appears, 
an  end  is  put  to  the  gradations  of  physical  development.  There 
is  “  an  arrest  of  the  body  ”  ;  for  by  means  of  his  intelligence  man 
fashions  tools  and  instruments  of  every  sort  which  enable  him  to 
do  without  additional  and  more  complex  physical  organs.  He 
can  interchange  thoughts  with  his  fellows.  He  dominates  the 
forces  of  material  Nature.  Henceforth,  evolution  is  psychical.  It 
is  the  story  of  the  rise  and  of  the  stages  in  the  progress  of 
human  civilization.  The  prolonging  of  the  period  of  helpless  in¬ 
fancy  is  an  essential  condition  of  the  evolution  of  motherhood. 
The  permanent  relation  of  husband  and  wife  is  dependent  on 
physical  characteristics  which  do  not  belong  to  the  lower  types  of 
animal  life.  The  being  of  the  family,  with  the  ties  of  affection 
developed  within  it,  as  well  as  the  possibility  of  handing  down  a 
fund  of  knowledge  to  increase  from  generation  to  generation,  are 
consequent  on  the  birth  of  humanity  with  its  distinctive  peculiari¬ 
ties.  These  were  foreshadowed  before,  but  never  brought  into 
being.  A  loftier  stimulus  than  the  struggle  for  existence — namely, 
altruism,  a  benevolent  interest  in  others,  and  the  spirit  of  self-sacri¬ 
fice  for  their  sake  —  sets  bounds  to  self-love.1 

1  For  a  more  full  statement  of  these  particular  features  in  the  course  of 
Evolution,  see  Drummond,  The  Ascent  of  Alan ,  especially  chs.  iii.  vii. 


48  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

As  to  the  agencies  instrumental  in  building  up  the  system  of 
nature,  it  is  plain  that,  in  the  first  place,  the  origin  of  each  requires 
to  be  explained ;  in  the  second  place,  that  their  concurrence  re¬ 
quires  to  be  accounted  for ;  and,  in  the  third  place,  that  neither 
separately  considered  nor  taken  in  combination  —  regarded  as 
blind,  unintelligent  forces  —  do  they  avail  in  the  least  to  explain 
the  order  and  adaptation  of  Nature  which  result  from  them.  Why 
do  living  beings  engender  offspring  like  themselves?  Why  do 
the  offspring  slightly  vary  from  the  parents  and  from  one  another? 
How  account  for  the  desire  of  food  ?  How  explain  the  disposi¬ 
tion  to  struggle  to  obtain  it?  Why  is  beauty  preferred,  leading  to 
“  sexual  selection  ”  ?  How  is  it  that  these  laws  coexist  and  co¬ 
operate  ?  We  see  that  they  issue,  according  to  the  Darwinian  view, 
in  a  grand  result,  a  system  of  living  beings.  They  are  actually 
means  to  an  intelligible  end.  They  appear  to  exist,  to  be  ordained 
and  established,  with  reference  to  it.  There  is  a  “  survival  of  the 
fittest.”  Who  are  the  “  fittest”  except  those  who  have  been 
fitted  to  a  given  end?  But  how  were  “  the  fittest”  produced? 
Natural  selection  merely  weeds  out  and  destroys  the  products 
which  are  not  the  fittest.  It  produces  nothing.  But  it  operates, 
in  conjunction  with  the  force  described  as  “  heredity,”  which 
includes  “  variability,”  to  work  out  an  order  of  things  which 
plainly  shows  itself  to  have  been  preconceived.  The  selection,  as 
far  as  it  is  positive,  is  dictated  by  stimuli  within  the  organism. 
The  fallacy  of  excluding  design  or  final  causes  where  it  is  possible 
to  trace  out  efficient  or  instrumental  causes  would  be  astonishing 
if  it  were  not  so  frequently  met  with. 

There  is  nothing  in  gradualness  of  development  to  disprove 
teleology.  The  progress  of  a  pedestrian  to  a  place  a  mile  distant, 
by  steps  an  inch  long,  presupposes  volition  and  purpose  as  truly 
as  if  he  had  reached  the  place  at  a  single  bound.  So  it  is  with  the 
continuity  ascribed  to  Nature  by  the  evolutionist.  It  were  to  be 
wished  that  all  naturalists  were  as  discriminating  as  Professor 
Owen,  who  says  :  — 

“  Natural  evolution  by  means  of  slow  physical  and  organic  operations 
through  long  ages  is  not  the  less  clearly  recognizable  as  the  act  of  all- 
adaptive  mind,  because  we  have  abandoned  the  old  error  of  supposing 
it  to  be  the  result  of  a  primary,  direct,  and  sudden  act  of  creational  con¬ 
struction.  .  .  .  The  succession  of  species  by  continuously  operating 
law  is  not  necessarily  a  4  blind  operation.’  Such  law,  however  discerned 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


49 


in  the  properties  of  natural  objects,  intimates,  nevertheless,  a  precon¬ 
ceived  progress.  Organisms  may  be  evolved  in  orderly  manner,  stage 
after  stage,  towards  a  foreseen  goal,  and  the  broad  features  of  the  course 
may  still  show  the  unmistakable  impress  of  divine  volition.”  1 

Evolution  has  to  do  with  the  how,  and 

' — - - . 

ena.  Evolution  is  a  method,  not  an  agent.  Hence  the  evolution¬ 
ist  is  powerless  against  the  teleological  argument.  This  is  true  of 
the  theory  of  evolution  in  the  widest  stretch  that  the  boldest 
speculation  has  given  it.  This  is  conceded,  even  if  not  consis¬ 
tently,  by  its  considerate  advocates.  This  harmony  of  evolution 
with  design  is  not  denied  by  Huxley :  — 

“The  teleological  and  the  mechanical  views  of  nature  are  not  neces¬ 
sarily  mutually  exclusive.  On  the  contrary,  the  more  purely  a  mechan¬ 
ist  the  speculator  is,  the  more  firmly  does  he  affirm  primordial  nebular 
arrangement,  of  which  all  the  phenomena  of  the  universe  are  conse¬ 
quences,  the  more  completely  is  he  thereby  at  the  mercy  of  the  teleolo- 
gist,  who  can  always  defy  him  to  disprove  that  this  primordial  nebular 
arrangement  was  not  intended  to  evolve  the  phenomena  of  the  uni¬ 
verse.”  2 


not  the  why,  of  phenom-  ? 


This  intention  is  recognized  in  the  outcome  as  related  to  the 
concurrent  agencies  leading  to  it,  as  well  as  in  the  constitution 
of  these  primordial  agencies,  —  recognized  by  the  same  faculty  of 
reason  through  which  we  are  made  capable  of  tracing  phenomena 
to  their  physical  causes.  The  antecedent  idea  is  throughout 
controlling. 

Darwin  himself  was  often  impressed  by  the  marks  of  design  in 
the  development  of  animal  life,  but  he  confessed  to  a  perplexity 
and  consequent  scepticism  on  this  point  from  the  circumstance  that 
the  phenomena  of  variation  seemed  to  him  to  be  due  to  “  chance.” 
“  This,”  as  he  explained  later,  “  is  a  wholly  incorrect  expression, 
which  simply  indicates  an  ignorance  of  the  cause  of  each  particu¬ 
lar  variation.”  3  He  was  puzzled  by  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  fact 
that  variability  shows  nothing  like  adaptation  to  the  prospective 
function  of  natural  selection.  Variability  appeared  to  him  to  be, 

1  Transactions  of  the  Geological  Society,  vol.  v.  p.  90,  quoted  by  Mivart, 
The  Genesis  of  Species,  p.  274. 

2  Huxley,  Critiques,  p.  307.  For  other  passages  from  Huxley,  one  in  a  less 
philosophical  spirit,  see  Appendix,  Note  2. 

3  Origin  of  Species,  vol.  i.  p.  137,  vol.  ii.  p.  431. 

E 


50  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


figuratively  speaking,  haphazard.  The  materials  for  natural  selec¬ 
tion  to  do  its  work  with,  he  compared  to  the  numerous  fragments 
of  stone,  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  which  might  be  produced  by  the 
breaking  up  of  a  precipice  by  natural  forces,  including  storm  and 
earthquake.  The  builder  picks  out  from  the  chaotic  heap  such 
fragments  as  he  can  work  into  the  structure  of  his  edifice.  Hence 
to  Darwin  there  seemed  to  be  an  antinomy,  an  irreconcilable  con¬ 
tradiction  1  —  like  what  he  conceived  to  exist  between  free-will  and 
foreknowledge.  He  has  no  thought  of  denying  that  there  are  laws 
of  variation.  “  Our  ignorance,”  he  says,  “  of  the  laws  of  variation 
is  profound.” 2  But  what  they  are,  what  the  causes  of  variation 
in  plants  and  animals  are,  is  a  problem  which  he  left  unsolved.3 
“Darwin,”  says  Huxley,  “  left  the  causes  of  variation,  and  whether 
it  is  limited  or  directed  by  extended  conditions,  perfectly  open.  But 
in  the  immediate  consequences  of  variability,  he  could  not  perceive 
marks  of  design,  but  rather  the  opposite.  In  other  words,  he  missed 
a  link  in  the  process  of  rational  development ;  there  seemed  to  be 
a  vacancy  —  a  place  where  foresight  and  plan  are  suspended,  and 
control  is  left  to  chance.”  4  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  organism  and 
the  conditions  in  which  it  lives,  work  out  a  result  which  exhibits  clearly 

1  Animals  and  Plants  tinder  Domestication ,  vol.  ii.  p.  428. 

2  The  impressions  of  Darwin  are  avowed  with  his  wonted  candor,  especially 
in  his  correspondence  with  Asa  Gray.  Darwin’s  letters  are  in  vol.  ii.  of  The 
Life  of  Darwin.  He  speaks  of  “  undesigned  variability”  (ii.  165),  from  which 
no  definite  results  would  follow.  “  I  am  conscious,”  he  writes,  “  that  I  am 
in  an  utterly  hopeless  muddle.  I  cannot  think  that  the  world  as  we  see  it,  is 
the  result  of  chance,  and  yet  I  cannot  look  upon  each  separate  thing  as  the 
result  of  Design”  (ii.  146).  He  writes  in  an  earlier  letter:  “I  am  inclined  to 
look  at  everything  as  resulting  from  designed  laws,  with  the  details,  whether 
good  or  bad,  left  to  the  working  out  of  what  we  may  call  chance.  Not  that 
this  at  all  satisfies  me”  (ii.  105).  He  would  have  no  doubt  of  design  if  he 
could  “thoroughly”  believe  that  there  is  any  other  “imponderable  force”  of 
which  life  and  mind  are  the  “function”;  that  is  to  say,  if  he  could  believe 
that  there  is  a  designer  —  distinct  from  mechanical  forces  active  in  natural 
selection  —  for  the  designing  of  things  to  be  assigned  to  (ii.  170).  But  “the 
forces  active  in  natural  selection,”  that  is,  in  living  organisms  and  their  envi¬ 
ronment,  collectively  taken,  issue  in  the  distinct  species  of  animal  and  vege¬ 
table  life.  In  this  product  a  rationality  is  to  be  discerned  which  implies  that 
intention  is  involved  in  the  existence  and  activity  of  the  agencies,  collectively 

taken,  on  which  it  depends.  3  See,  respecting  Darwin’s  views,  Appendix, Note  3. 

4  Huxley's  Life  and  Letters ,  vol.  ii.  p.  205 ;  also,  his  article  on  “  Mr.  Darwin’s 
Critics,”  Collected  Essays,  vol.  ii.  p.  120.  For  the  advance  of  the  theory  of. 
evolution,  he  says,  the  great  need  is  a  theory  of  variation.  Lbid.,  p.  182. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


51 


a  designing  agent.  There  is  no  room  for  denial  that,  as  Mr.  Sully 
expresses  it,  “  every  doctrine  of  evolution  must  assume  some  defi¬ 
nite  initial  arrangement  which  is  supposed  to  contain  the  possibili¬ 
ties  of  the  order  which  we  find  to  be  evolved,  and  no  other 
possibility.  This  undeniable  truth  subverts  every  hypothesis 
which  would  substitute  chance  for  design.” 

But  there  is  too  much  dissent  from  the  supposition  of  limitless 
variability  to  reason  upon  it  as  a  basis  for  scientific  argument. 

Out  of  variations,  says  one  critic,  there  must  appear  individual 
peculiarities  adapted  to  give  success  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 
Then,  in  “  this  ocean  of  fluctuation  and  metaphorphosis,”  variations 
coinciding  with  these  must  appear,  from  generation  to  generation,  to 
join  on  to  them  and  to  build  up  a  highly  organized  species.  The  series 
of  chances  required  to  be  overcome  is  infinite.  If  this  were  not  the 
fact,  the  physiologist,  Dr.  W.  B.  Carpenter  argues,  the  chances  to  be 
overcome  in  building  up  an  organized  species  are  infinite.  “  On  the 
hypothesis  of  1  natural  selection  1  among  aimless  variations,”  says  Dr. 
Carpenter,  “  I  think  that  it  could  be  shown  that  the  probability  is 
infinitely  small  that  the  progressive  modifications  required  in  the 
structure  of  each  individual  organ  to  convert  a  reptile  into  a  bird  could 
have  taken  place  without  disturbing  the  required  harmony  in  their 
combined  action ;  nothing  but  intentional  variations  being  competent 
to  bring  such  a  result.”  The  proof  of  this  prearrangement  is  furnished 
“  by  the  orderly  sequence  of  variations  following  definite  lines  of  ad¬ 
vance.  It  would  be  necessary  to  presuppose  a  miracle  of  luck.  There 
is  not,  as  in  artificial  breeding,  a  seclusion  of  favored  offspring  from 
their  kin.  Moreover,  mere  selection  on  the  basis  of  aimless  variability 
will  not  account  for  organs  and  members,  which,  however  useful  when 
fully  grown,  in  their  beginnings  do  not  help,  and  may  hinder  the 
animal  in  its  struggle  for  existence.  From  the  geological  record,  which, 
to  be  sure,  is  defective,  support  cannot  be  drawn  for  the  theory.”  Profes¬ 
sor  Huxley  himself  suggests  that  “  further  inquiries  may  prove  that  vari¬ 
ability  is  definite,  and  is  determined  in  certain  directions  rather  than 
others.  It  is  quite  conceivable  that  every  species  tends  to  produce 
varieties  of  a  limited  number  and  kind,  and  that  the  effect  of  natural 
selection  is  to  favor  the  development  of  some  of  these,  while  it  opposes 
the  development  of  others,  along  their  predetermined  lines  of  modifica¬ 
tion.”  1  The  response  of  the  organism  to  exterior  influences  is  deter¬ 
mined  by  impulses  within  itself.  This  is  the  teaching  of  eminent 
naturalists,  such  as  Owen  and  Virchow.  Dana  held  that  variation 
is  limited  by  “  fundamental  laws.”  Gray,  an  able  advocate  of  Darwin’s 
general  theory,  teaches  that  “  variations  ”  —  in  other  words,  “  the 


1  Encycl.  Brit.,  vol.  viii.  p.  751,  art.  “Evolution.” 


52  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


differences  between  plants  and  animals  —  are  evidently  not  from 
without,  but  from  within ;  not  physical,  but  physiological.”  The 
occult  power  u  does  not  act  vaguely,  producing  all  sorts  of  variations 
from  a  common  centre,”  etc.  “The  facts,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  do  not 
support  the  assumption  of  every-sided  and  indifferent  variation.  Vari¬ 
ation  is  somehow  and  somewhere  introduced  in  the  transit  from  parent 
to  offspring.  ...  It  is  generally  agreed  that  the  variation  is  from 
within,  is  an  internal  response  to  external  impressions.  All  that  we 
can  possibly  know  of  the  nature  of  the  inherent  tendency  to  vary  must 
be  gathered  from  the  facts  of  the  response.  And  these,  I  judge,  are  not 
such  as  to  require  or  support  the  assumption  of  a  tendency  to  wholly 
vague  and  all-directioned  variation.”  1  He  affirms,  that  “  as  species  do 
not  now  vary  at  all  times  and  places,  and  in  all  directions,  nor  produce 
crude,  vague,  imperfect,  and  useless  forms,  there  is  no  reason  for  sup¬ 
posing  that  they  ever  did.”2  The  philosopher  Von  Hartmann  in¬ 
geniously  compares  natural  selection  to  the  bolt  and  coupling  in  a 
machine,  but  affirms  that  “  the  driving  principle,”  which  called  new 
species  into  existence,  lay  or  originated  in  the  organisms.3  Darwin,  in 
his  Descent  of  Man ,  frankly  allowed  that  he  has  exaggerated  natural 
selection  as  a  cause,  since  it  fails  to  account  for  structures  which  are 
neither  beneficial  nor  injurious.  Here,  as  in  regard  to  the  correlation 
of  parts  and  organs,  or  “  sympathetic  ”  variation,  he  falls  back  on  mystery. 
The  fact  of  the  sterility  of  hybrids  has  no  explanation.  In  both  cases, 
teleology  cannot  be  dispensed  with. 

The  upshot  of  the  matter  is,  that  there  is  no  occasion  for  puzzling 
over  the  design  of  chaotic  and  purposeless  variations,  —  the  stones 
of  all  shapes  at  the  base  of  the  precipice,  —  until  a  final  verdict  of 
natural  science  has  been  reached.  Be  the  conclusion  on  this 
point  what  it  may,  the  effects  of  variation  must  be  considered  an 
actual  link  in  the  series  of  causes,  the  outcome  of  which  is  an 
orderly  and  beautiful  system  of  organized  beings. 

Were  there  such  a  thing  in  nature  as  “  aimless  variability,”  the 
objection  to  the  theistic  argument,  suggested  by  it,  would  be  akin 
to  the  objection  sometimes  heard  “from  the  waste  of  life  and 
material”  in  organic  nature,  where  the  phenomena  in  question  are 
familiar.  In  parts  of  both  the  vegetable  and  animal  kingdoms, 

1  Natural  Science  and  Religion ,  p.  50.  So  stout  an  advocate  of  Darwinian 
doctrine  as  Huxley  remarks  concerning  the  effect  of  external  conditions,  climate, 
etc.,  on  variations,  “In  all  probability  the  influence  of  this  cause  has  been  very 
much  exaggerated.”  Collected  Essays ,  vol.  ii.  p.  182. 

2  Darwiniana ,  pp.  386,  387. 

3  See  R.  Schmid,  The  Theories  of  Darzoin,  etc.,  p.  107. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


53 


we  find  a  redundancy  of  germs  and  eggs.  Blossoms  numberless 
bear  no  fruit.  Facts  of  this  sort  do  not  militate  against  the  proof 
of  design.  The  only  doubt  which  they  could  inspire,  must  relate 
to  the  perfection  of  wisdom  and  skill  in  the  Creator.  It  might  be 
answered  that  the  very  notion  of  wastefulness  involves  the  need¬ 
less  and  useless  sacrifice  of  that  which  is  at  the  same  time  pos¬ 
sessed  of  value,  and  provided  not  without  cost  of  money  or  labor. 
If  all  the  difficulty  connected  by  Darwin  with  variability  existed, 
it  would  be  well  to  bear  in  mind  an  observation  of  Huxley : 
“  There  is  a  wide  gulf  between  the  thing  you  cannot  explain  and 
the  thing  that  upsets  you  altogether.  There  is  hardly  any  hypothe¬ 
sis  in  this  world  which  has  not  some  fact  in  connection  with  it, 
which  has  not  been  explained.”1  Gray  presents  from  his  own 
science  of  botany  illustrations  of  usefulness  in  this  “  waste  of  life 
and  material.”  One  of  them  is  afforded  by  the  different  means  of 
dispersing  the  pollen  of  flowers.2  Darwin’s  own  writings,  one  of 
which  is  entitled  On  the  Contrivances  in  Nature  for  the  Fertiliza¬ 
tion  of  Orchids ,  are  quite  helpful  in  this  same  direction.  The 
Darwinian  hypothesis,  in  its  essential  principle,  goes  far  toward 
disposing  of  the  sceptical  difficulties  of  the  kind  referred  to.  This 
is  through  what  has  been  denominated  “  the  comprehensive  and 
far-reaching  teleology,”  by  which  “  organs  and  even  faculties,  use¬ 
less  to  the  individual,  find  their  explanation  and  reason  of  being.” 

Before  closing  this  discussion,  it  is  expedient  to  notice  briefly  a 
few  not  uncommon  misconceptions  of  the  argument  of  design,  to 
which  its  advocates  as  well  as  dissentients  are  exposed.  A  fruitful 
error  is  the  failure  to  perceive  that  a  multitude  of  things  in  Nature 
which,  regarded  individually,  might  be  judged  to  be  unwise  and 
even  baneful,  are  incidental  to  a  system  of  general  laws,  the  ex¬ 
istence  of  which  is  in  the  highest  degree  expedient.  The  law  of 
heredity  brings  in  its  train  numerous  evils,  yet  it  is,  on  the  whole, 
an  essential  benefit. 

A  conclusion  unfavorable  to  the  skill  or  to  the  benevolence  of 
the  architect  of  the  world,  is  frequently  based  on  the  absence  of 
what  is  deemed  an  ideal  perfection  in  some  part  of  Nature  —  it 
may  be  an  organ  in  the  human  body.  Thus  a  justly  distinguished 
naturalist,  Helmholtz,  criticises  the  structure  of  the  human  eye, 
contrasting  it  with  certain  optical  instruments  of  human  invention. 
Yet  he  closes  with  a  statement  which  is  the  main  point  in  the 

1  Huxley,  Collected  Essays,  vol.  ii.  p.  466.  2  Danviniana,  pp.  375  seq. 


54  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


argument  of  design  :  “  The  adaptation  of  the  eye  to  its  function  is, 
therefore,  most  complete,  and  is  seen  in  the  very  limits  set  to  its 
defects.  Here,  the  result  which  may  be  reached  by  innumerable 
generations  working  under  the  Darwinian  law  of  inheritance,  coin¬ 
cides  with  what  the  wisest  wisdom  may  have  devised  beforehand.”  1 
It  has  often  been  taken  for  granted  by  theologians,  or  wrongly 
assumed  to  be  their  contention,  that  the  world  and  everything  in 
it  was  designed  exclusively  as  a  manifestation  of  the  Creator  to 
the  human  race.  Hence  everything  not  capable  of  this  limited 
construction  has  been  looked  upon  as,  to  say  the  least,  super¬ 
fluous.  A  lesson  of  modesty  is  contained  in  the  familiar  lines  of 
Gray  :  — 

“  Full  many  a  gem  of  purest  ray  serene 
The  dark  unfathomed  caves  of  ocean  bear, 

Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air.” 

[ 

Every  gem  and  every  blossom  manifests  in  its  very  structure  a  pur¬ 
pose,  even  without  reference  to  the  impression  it  is  adapted  to 
make  on  human  observers.  But  one  of  the  motives  of  their 
creation  may  be  the  self-expression,  for  its  own  sake,  of  the 
Author  of  their  being.2  Still  further,  the  partial  if  not  complete  hy¬ 
pothesis  has  been  virtually  sanctioned  that  everything  in  the  broad 
realm  of  nature  was  fashioned  as  an  instrument  to  convey  a  specific 
benefit,  larger  or  smaller,  to  the  race  of  man,  or  to  a  portion  of  it.  It 
is  one  thing  to  say  that  in  innumerable  arrangements  the  benevo¬ 
lence  of  God  is  convincingly  discovered.  But  to  affirm  this  of  every 
being  and  thing,  simply  leads  to  the  caricature  of  the  true  view.  To 
call  in  the  idea  of  a  distinct  purpose,  to  account  for  the  creation 
of  whatever  the  convenience  of  man,  aided  by  his  ingenuity,  may 
turn  to  some  use,  argues  either  impiety  or  ignorance.  Especially 
presumptuous  and  misleading  is  the  implied  omniscience  which 
professes  to  comprehend  in  full  the  final  end  of  creation  and 
providence,  and  to  derive  thence  an  infallible  criterion  for  setting 
the  right  value  on  whatever  is  and  whatever  occurs.  Apart  from 

1  See  the  comments  of  J.  Martineau,  A  Study  of  Religion ,  vol.  ii.  B.  ii.  c.  I. 
P-  343- 

2  Quite  apart  from  peculiar  adjuncts  in  his  system,  one  may  recognize  truth 
in  Professor  Royce’s  emphatic  words  on  what  he  calls  the  “  Philistinism  ” 
“which  supposes  that  Nature  has  no  worthier  goal  than  producing  a  man. 
Perhaps  experiences  of  longer  time-span  are  far  higher  in  rational  type  than 
ours.”  The  World  and  the  Individual,  p.  231. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


55 


revealed  truth,  it  is  clear  enough  that  “we  know  in  part”  and 
are  incompetent  otherwise  to  apprehend 

u  the  one  far-off  divine  event, 

To  which  the  whole  creation  moves.” 

It  is  conceded  that  the  argument  of  design  does  not  demon¬ 
strate  the  infinitude  of  God’s  power  and  wisdom.  It  is  here  that 
the  ontological  argument,  or  that  which  is  the  real  gist  of  it,  the 
intuition  of  the  Infinite  and  Absolute,  comes  in  to  convert  into  a 
conviction  the  feeling  that  is  begotten  in  the  mind,  in  the  form 
of  an  immediate  suggestion  by  the  inconceivably  vast  manifesta¬ 
tion  of  these  attributes  of  God  in  the  universe,  as  far  as  our  human 
vision  can  extend.  The  unconditioned  being  is  independent  of 
limitations  inseparable  from  finite  beings.  The  intuition  of 
unconditioned  being  involves  the  infinitude  of  his  natural  attri¬ 
butes.  He  is  independent  of  temporal  limitations ;  that  is,  he  is 
eternal.  He  is  independent  of  spatial  limitations ;  that  is,  he  is 
omnipresent.  The  categories  of  space  and  time  cannot  be  ap¬ 
plied  to  him,  —  a  truth  which  we  can  only  express  by  saying  that 
he  is  above  time  and  space.  His  power  is  infinite ;  that  is,  it 
can  do  everything  which  is  an  object  of  power,  and  it  admits 
of  no  imaginable  increase.  His  knowledge,  since  final  causes 
reveal  his  personality,  is  equally  without  limit. 

IV.  The  moral  argument.  The  righteousness  and  goodness  of 
God  are  evident  from  conscience.  The  phenomena,  which  have 
been  shown  to  be  the  immediate  source  of  faith  in  God,1  on  re¬ 
flection  are  seen  to  be  valid  in  logic.  Right  is  the  supreme,  sole 
authoritative  impulse  in  the  soul.  He  who  planted  it  there,  and 
gave  it  this  imperative  character,  must  himself  be  righteous. 
From  the  testimony  of  “  the  vicegerent  within  the  heart  ”  we  in¬ 
fer  “  the  righteousness  of  the  Sovereign  who  placed  it  there.” 

But  what  are  the  contents  of  the  law?  What  has  he  bidden 
man,  by  “  the  law  written  on  the  heart,”  to  be  and  to  do  ?  He 
has  enjoined  goodness.  When  we  discover  that  the  precept  of 
the  unwritten  law  of  conscience  is  love,  we  have  the  clearest  and 
most  undeniable  evidence  that  love  is  the  preference  of  the  Law¬ 
giver,  and  that  he  is  love. 

The  argument  from  conscience  is  really  a  branch  of  the  argu- 


1  See  ch.  i. 


56  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

ment  from  final  causes.  In  this  inward  law  there  is  revealed  the 
end  of  our  being,  —  an  end  not  to  be  realized  as  if  a  part  of 
physical  nature,  but  freely.  We  are  to  make  ourselves  what  our 
Maker  designed  us  to  be.  The  law  is  the  ideal,  the  thought  of 
the  Creator,  and  a  spur  to  its  realization.  It  attests  the  holiness 
of  God,  as  design  'in  the  external  world  reveals  His  intelligence. 
This  truth  is  forcibly  expressed  by  Erskine  of  Linlathen  :  “  When 
I  attentively  consider  what  is  going  on  in  my  conscience,  the  chief 
thing  forced  on  my  notice  is,  that  I  find  myself  face  to  face  with 
a  purpose  —  not  my  own,  for  I  am  often  conscious  of  resisting  it, 
but  which  dominates  me,  and  makes  itself  felt  as  ever  present,  as 
the  very  root  and  reason  of  my  being.”  “This  consciousness  of  a 
purpose  concerning  me  that  I  should  be  a  good  man  —  right,  true, 
and  unselfish  —  is  the  first  firm  footing  I  have  in  the  region  of 
religious  thought ;  for  I  cannot  dissociate  the  idea  of  a  purpose 
from  that  of  a  purposer ;  and  I  cannot  but  identify  this  Purposer 
with  the  Author  of  my  being  and  the  being  of  all  beings,  and 
further,  I  cannot  but  regard  his  purpose  toward  me  as  the  unmis¬ 
takable  indication  of  his  own  character.”  1 

Is  this  conviction,  which  the  very  constitution  of  our  being  com¬ 
pels  us  to  cherish,  contradicted  by  the  course  of  the  world? 
There  is  moral  evil  in  the  world.  But  of  moral  evil,  although  He 
permits  it,  He  is  not  the  author.  Nor  can  this  permission  be  pro¬ 
nounced  unrighteous  or  unbenevolent,  until  it  is  proved  that  there  are 
no  incompatibilities  between  the  most  beneficent  system  of  created 
things,  including  beings  endowed,  to  the  extent  with  which  men 
are  endowed,  with  free  agency,  and  the  exclusion,  by  direct  power, 
of  all  abuse  of  that  divine  gift  by  which  man  resembles  his  Crea¬ 
tor.  Permission  on  this  ground  is  not  to  be  confounded  with 
pi'efere7ice  of  7noral  evil  to  its  opposite.  If  it  were  made  probable 
that  the  bare  permission  of  moral  evil,  so  far  as  it  actually  exists 
in  the  world,  is  inconsistent  with  infinite  power  and  infinite  good¬ 
ness,  or  with  both,  the  result  would  simply  be  a  contradiction 
between  the  revelation  of  God  in  our  intuition  of  unconditioned 
being  and  in  our  own  moral  nature,  and  the  disclosure  of  Him  in 
the  course  of  the  world.2 

We  are  in  a  world  that  abounds  in  suffering.  How  shall  this 
be  reconciled  with  benevolence  in  the  Creator?  Much  weight 

1  The  Spiritual  Order  and  Other  Papers ,  pp.  47,  48.  0  See  Appendix,  Note  4. 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


57 


is  to  be  given  to  the  consideration  of  the  effects  flowing  of  neces¬ 
sity  from  a  system  of  general  laws,  notwithstanding  the  advantages 
of  such  a  system.  The  suggestions  relative  to  the  occasions  and 
beneficent  offices  of  pain  and  death,  which  are  presented  by  such 
writers  as  James  Martineau,  in  his  work  entitled  A  Study  of  Reli¬ 
gion ,  are  helpful.  Especially  is  the  fact  of  moral  evil  to  be  taken 
into  the  account  when  a  solution  is  sought  for  the  problem  of 
physical  evil,  its  concomitant  and  so  often  its  consequence.  Let 
it  be  freely  granted,  however,  that  no  explanations  that  man  can 
devise  avail  to  clear  up  altogether  the  mystery  of  evil.  It  is  only 
a  small  part  of  the  system  of  things  that  falls  under  our  observa¬ 
tion  in  the  present  stage  of  our  being.  It  is  not  by  an  inductive 
argument,  by  showing  a  preponderance  of  good  over  evil  in  the 
arrangements  of  nature,  that  the  mind  is  set  at  rest.  There  is  no 
need  of  an  argument  of  this  kind.  There  is  need  of  faith,  but 
that  faith  is  rational.  We  find,  as  we  have  pointed  out,  in  our 
own  moral  constitution  a  direct  and  full  attestation  of  the  good¬ 
ness  of  God.  Our  moral  constitution  is  affirmed,  by  a  class  of 
evolutionists,  to  be  a  gradual  growth  from  a  foundation  of  animal 
instincts.  Let  this  speculation  go  for  what  it  may  be  worth.  The 
same  theory  is  advanced  respecting  the  human  intellect.  Yet  the 
intellect  is  assumed  to  be  an  organ  of  knowledge.  There  is  no 
avoiding  this  conclusion,  else  all  science,  evolutionary  science  in¬ 
cluded,  is  a  castle  in  the  air.  If  the  intellect  is  entitled  to  trust, 
so  equally  is  the  moral  nature.  Are  the  righteousness  and  good¬ 
ness  of  God  called  in  question  on  the  ground  of  perplexing  facts 
observed  in  the  structure  and  course  of  the  world?  Where  do 
we  get  the  qualifications  for  raising  such  inquiries  or  rendering  an 
answer  to  them  ?  It  must  be  from  ideals  of  character  which  we 
find  within  ourselves,  and  from  the  supreme  place  accorded  to 
the  moral  law  which  is  written  on  the  heart.  But  whence  come 
these  moral  ideals?  Who  enthroned  the  law  of  righteousness  in 
the  heart?  Who  inscribed  on  the  tablets  of  the  soul  the  assertion 
of  the  inviolable  authority  of  right  and  the  absolute  worth  of  love 
as  a  motive  of  action  ?  In  a  word,  our  moral  constitution  is  itself 
given  us  of  God,  and  if  it  be  not  the  reflection  of  His  character,  it 
is,  for  aught  we  can  say,  a  false  light ;  in  which  case  all  the  ver¬ 
dicts  resting  upon  it,  with  all  the  queries  of  scepticism  as  to  the 
goodness  of  God,  may  be  illusive.  The  arraignment  of  the  char¬ 
acter  of  God  on  the  ground  of  alleged  imperfections  in  nature  or 


58  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


of  seemingly  harsh  or  unjust  occurrences  in  the  course  of  events, 
is  therefore  suicidal.  The  revelation  of  God’s  character  is  in  our 
moral  constitution.  The  voice  within  us,  which  is  uttered  in  the 
sacred  impulse  of  duty  and  in  the  law  of  love,  is  His  voice.  There 
we  learn  what  He  approves,  what  He  requires,  what  He  rewards. 
When  this  proposition  is  denied,  we  lose  our  footing ;  we  cut 
away  the  ground  for  trust  in  our  own  capacity  for  moral  criticism. 

Man  has  not  one  originating  cause  and  the  world  another. 
The  existence  and  supreme  authority  of  conscience  imply  that  in 
the  on-going  of  the  world  righteousness  holds  sway.  If  there  is 
a  moral  purpose  underlying  the  course  of  things,  then  a  righteous 
Being  is  at  the  helm.  What  confusion  worse  than  chaos  in  the 
idea  that  while  man  himself  is  bound  to  be  actuated  by  a  moral 
purpose,  the  universe  in  which  he  is  to  act  his  part  exists  for  no 
moral  end,  and  that  through  the  course  of  things  no  moral  pur¬ 
pose  runs  ! 

Even  Kant,  who  bases  our  conviction  as  to  the  fundamental 
truths  of  religion  on  moral  grounds,  and  asserts  for  it,  not  a  strictly 
logical,  but  a  moral,  certainty,  nevertheless  declares  this  convic¬ 
tion  to  be  inevitable  where  there  exist  right  moral  dispositions. 
“The  only  caution  to  be  observed,”  he  says,  “is  that  this  faith  of 
the  intellect  ( Vernunftglaube )  is  founded  on  the  assumption  of 
moral  tempers.”  If  one  were  utterly  indifferent  to  moral  laws, 
even  then  the  conclusion  “  would  still  be  supported  indeed  by 
strong  arguments  from  analogy,  but  not  by  such  as  an  obstinate 
sceptical  bent  might  not  overcome.” 

It  is  not  my  object  in  these  remarks  to  draw  out  in  full  the 
proofs  of  the  existence  and  the  moral  attributes  of  God.  It  is 
rather  to  illustrate  the  relation  in  which  these  proofs  stand  to 
those  perceptions,  inchoate  and  spontaneous  in  the  experiences 
of  the  soul,  which  are  the  ultimate  subjective  source  of  religion, 
and  on  which  the  living  appreciation  of  the  revelation  of  God  in 
external  nature  is  contingent.  Let  it  be  observed,  moreover,  that 
these  native  spiritual  experiences  of  dependence,  of  obligation 
and  accountableness,  of  hunger  for  fellowship  with  the  Infinite 
One,  wherein  religion  takes  its  rise  and  has  its  root,  are  them¬ 
selves  to  be  counted  as  proofs  of  the  reality  of  the  object  implied 
in  them.  They  are  significant  of  the  end  for  which  man  was 
made.  They  presuppose  God. 

It  is  true  that  all  our  knowledge  rests  ultimately  on  an  act  of 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


59 


faith  which  finds  no  warrant  in  any  process  of  reasoning.  We 
^cannot  climb  to  this  trust  on  the  steps  of  a  syllogism.  We  are 
obliged  to  start  with  a  confidence  in  the  veracity  of  our  intellec¬ 
tual  faculties ;  and  this  we  have  to  assume  persistently  in  the 
whole  work  of  acquiring  knowledge.  Without  this  assumption  we 
can  no  more  infer  anything  or  know  anything  than  a  bird  can  fly 
in  a  vacuum.  411  science  reposes  on  this  faith  in  our  own  minds, 
which  implies  and  includes  faith  in  the  Author  of  the  mind.  This 
^primitive  faith  in  ourselves  is  moral  in  its  nature.  So  of  all  that 
truth  which  is  justly  called  self-evident.  No  arguments  are  to  be 
adduced  for  it.  In  every  process  of  reasoning  it  is  presupposed. 
We  can  prove  nothing  except  on  the  basis  of  propositions  that 
admit  of  no  proof.  But  if  we  leave  out  of  account  the  domain  of 
self-evident  truth,  which  is  ground  common  to  both  religion  and 
science,  religious  beliefs,  as  far  as  they  are  sound,  are  based  on 
adequate  evidence. 

V.  The  historical  argument.  The  philosophy  of  history  is 
synonymous  with  the  unveiling  of  the  plan  revealed  in  the  course 
of  human  affairs.  The  discovery  of  this  plan  is  the  chief  motive 
in  the  study  of  history,  without  which  it  would  have,  as  it  has  been 
truly  said,  little  more  interest  than  the  record  of  the  battles  of 
crows  and  daws.  Divine  providence  is  discerned  in  the  fact  that 

—  “through  the  ages  one  increasing  purpose  runs.” 

Hegel  presents  us  with  profound  observations  on  the  philosophy  of 
history,  notwithstanding  the  alloy  of  a  priori  speculation  mingled 
with  them.  The  thought  that  reason  is  the  “  sovereign  of  the 
world,”  he  tells  us,  is  the  hypothesis  in  the  domain  of  history 
which  it  verifies.  Hegel  shares  in  the  approval  given  by  Socrates 
to  the  remark  of  Anaxagoras  that  reason  or  intelligence  governs 
the  world,  and  quotes  the  saying  of  Aristotle  that  in  this  saying 
Anaxagoras  “  appeared  as  a  sober  man  among  the  drunken,”  in 
ascribing  nothing  to  chance.  “  The  Truth,”  Hegel  adds,  “  that  a 
providence,  that  of  God,  presides  over  the  events  of  the  world, 
consorts  with  that  proposition.”  1 

History,  as  containing  at  once  a  providential  order  and  a  moral 
order  enclosed  within  it,  discovers  God.  Events  do  not  take 
place  in  a  chaotic  series.  A  progress  is  discernible,  an  orderly 
succession  of  phenomena,  the  accomplishment  of  ends  by  the 

1  Hegel,  Philosophy  of  History ,  Sibree’s  Transl.,  pp.  9,  12,  13. 


60  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


concurrence  of  agencies  beyond  the  power  of  individuals  to  origi¬ 
nate  or  combine.  There  is  a  Power  that  “  makes  for  righteous¬ 
ness.”  Amid  all  the  disorder  of  the  world,  as  Bishop  Butler  has 
convincingly  shown,  there  is  manifested  on  the  part  of  the  Power 
which  governs,  an  approbation  of  right  and  a  condemnation  of 
wrong,  analogous  to  the  manifestation  of  justice  and  holiness 
which  emanates  from  righteous  rulers  among  men.  If  righteous¬ 
ness  appears  to  be  but  imperfectly  carried  out,  it  is  an  indication 
that  in  this  life  the  system  is  incomplete,  and  that  here  we  see 
only  its  beginnings.  In  order  to  disprove  the  rectitude  or  the 
power  of  the  divine  Sovereign,  the  assailant  must  first  make  good 
the  contention  that  the  system  as  here  seen  is  complete.  On  him 
rests  the  burden  of  proof. 

It  is  objected  to  the  belief  that  God  is  personal,  that  personality 
implies  limitation,  and  that,  if  personal,  God  could  not  be  infinite 
and  absolute.  “  Infinite  ”  (and  the  same  is  true  of  “  absolute  ”) 
is  an  adjective,  not  a  substantive.  When  used  as  a  noun,  pre¬ 
ceded  by  the  definite  article,  it  signifies  not  a  being,  but  an  ab¬ 
straction.  When  it  stands  as  a  predicate,  as  remarked  before,  it 
means  that  the  subject,  be  it  space,  time,  or  some  quality  of  a 
being,  is  without  limit.  Thus,  when  I  affirm  that  space  is  infinite, 
I  express  a  positive  perception,  or  thought.  I  mean  not  only  that 
imagination  can  set  no  bounds  to  space,  but  also  that  this  inability 
is  owing,  not  to  any  defect  in  the  imagination  or  conceptive  fac¬ 
ulty,  but  to  the  nature  of  the  object.  When  I  say  that  God  is  in¬ 
finite  in  power,  I  mean  that  He  can  do  all  things  which  are  objects 
of  power,  or  that  His  power  is  incapable  of  increase.  No  amount 
of  power  could  be  added  to  the  power  of  which  He  is  possessed.  It 
is  only  when  “  the  Infinite”  is  erroneously  taken  as  the  synonym 
of  the  sum  of  all  existence,  that  personality  is  made  to  be  incom¬ 
patible  with  God’s  infinitude.  No  such  conception  of  Him  is 
needed  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  reason  or  the  heart  of  man. 
Enough  that  He  is  the  ground  of  the  existence  of  all  beings  outside 
of  Himself,  or  the  creative  and  sustaining  Power.  There  are  no 
limitations  upon  His  power  which  He  has  not  voluntarily  set.  Such 
limitation  —  as  in  giving  life  to  rational  agents  capable  of  self- 
determination,  and  in  allowing  them  scope  for  its  exercise  —  is  not 
imposed  on  Him,  but  depends  on  His  own  choice. 

An  absolute  being  is  independent  of  all  other  beings  for  its 


THE  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  BEING  OF  GOD 


6 1 


existence  and  for  the  full  realization  of  its  nature.  It  is  con¬ 
tended  that  inasmuch  as  self-consciousness  is  conditioned  on  the 
distinction  of  the  ego  from  the  non-ego,  the  subject  from  the  object, 
a  personal  being  cannot  have  the  attribute  of  self-existence,  can¬ 
not  be  absolute.  Without  some  other  existence  than  himself,  a 
being  cannot  be  self-conscious.  The  answer  to  this  is,  that  the 
premise  is  an  unwarranted  generalization  from  what  is  true  in  the 
case  of  the  human,  finite,  dependent  personality  of  man,  which  is 
developed  in  connection  with  a  body,  and  is  only  one  of  numer¬ 
ous  finite  personalities  under  the  same  class.  To  assert  that  self- 
consciousness  cannot  exist  independently  of  such  conditions, 
because  it  is  through  them  that  I  come  to  a  knowledge  of  myself, 
is  a  great  leap  in  logic.  The  proposition  that  man  is  in  the  image 
of  God  does  not  necessarily  imply  that  the  divine  intelligence  is 
subject  to  the  restrictions  and  infirmities  that  belong  to  the  human. 
It  is  not  implied  that  God  ascertains  truth  by  a  gradual  process  of 
investigation  or  of  reasoning,  or  that  He  deliberates  on  a  plan  of 
action,  and  casts  about  for  the  appropriate  means  of  executing  it. 
These  limitations  are  characteristic,  not  of  intelligence  in  itself, 
but  of  finite  intelligence.  It  is  meant  that  He  is  not  an  imper¬ 
sonal  principle  or  occult  force,  but  is  self-conscious  and  self-; 
determining.  Nor  is  it  asserted  that  He  is  perfectly  comprehensible 
by  us.  Far  from  it.  It  is  not  pretended  that  we  are  able  fully  to 
think  away  the  limitations  which  cleave  to  us  in  our  character  as 
dependent  and  finite,  and  to  frame  thus  an  adequate  conception 
of  a  person  infinite  and  absolute.  Nevertheless,  the  existence  of 
such  a  person,  whom  we  can  apprehend  if  not  comprehend,  is 
verified  to  our  minds  by  sufficient  evidence.  Pantheism,  with  its 
immanent  Absolute,  void  of  personal  attributes,  and  its  self-devel¬ 
oping  universe,  postulates  a  deity  limited,  subject  to  change,  and 
reaching  self-consciousness  —  if  it  is  ever  reached  —  only  in  men. 
And  Pantheism,  when  it  denies  the  free  and  responsible  nature  of 
man,  maims  the  creature  whom  it  pretends  to  deify,  and  anni¬ 
hilates  not  only  morality,  but  religion  also,  in  any  proper  sense  of 
the  term. 

The  citadel  of  Theism  is  in  the  consciousness  of  our  own  per¬ 
sonality.  Within  ourselves  God  reveals  himself  more  directly  than 
through  any  other  channel.  He  impinges,  so  to  speak,  on  the 
soul  which  finds  in  its  primitive  activity  an  imim&tion  and  impli¬ 
cation  of  an  unconditioned  Cause  on  whom  if  is  dependent,  —  a 


i 


62  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


Cause  self-conscious  like  itself,  and  speaking  with  holy  authority 
in  conscience,  wherein  also  is  presented  the  end  which  the  soul 
is  to  pursue  through  its  own  free  self-determination,  —  an  end 
which  could  only  be  set  by  a  Being  both  intelligent  and  holy. 
The  yearning  for  fellowship  with  the  Being  thus  revealed  —  indis¬ 
tinct  though  it  be,  well-nigh  stifled  by  absorption  in  finite  objects 
and  in  the  vain  quest  for  rest  and  joy  in  them  —  is  inseparable 
from  human  nature.  There  is  an  unappeased  thirst  in  the  soul 
when  cut  off  from  God.  It  seeks  for  “  living  water.” 

Atheism  is  an  insult  to  humanity.  A  good  man  is  a  man  with 
a  purpose,  a  righteous  purpose.  He  aims  at  well-being,  —  at  the 
well-being  of  himself  and  of  the  world  of  which  he  forms  a  part. 
This  end  he  pursues  seriously  and  earnestly,  and  feels  bound  to 
pursue,  let  the  cost  to  himself  be  what  it  may.  To  tell  him  that 
while  he  is  under  a  sacred  obligation  to  have  this  purpose,  and 
pursue  this  end,  there  is  yet  no  purpose  or  end  in  the  universe  in 
which  he  is  acting  his  part  —  what  is  this  but  to  offer  a  gross  affront 
to  his  reason  and  moral  sense?  He  is  to  abstain  from  frivolity; 
he  is  to  act  from  an  intelligent  purpose,  for  the  accomplishment 
of  rational  ends ;  but  the  universe,  he  is  told,  is  the  offspring  of 
gigantic  frivolity.  The  latter  is  without  purpose  or  end;  there 
chance  or  blind  fate  rules. 


CHAPTER  III 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-THEISTIC  THEORIES  :  PANTHEISM,  POSITIVISM, 

MATERIALISM,  AGNOSTICISM 

The  Jthiee.  inseparable,  yet  distinct,  data  of  consciousness  are 
^self,  material  nature,  and  God.  Pantheism  would  merge  the  first 
two  in  the  third  —  in  its  essence  an  impersonal  Deity.  Materi¬ 
alism  would  merge  the  first  and  the  third  in  the  second,  and  so 
deify  matter.  Positivism  abjures  belief  in  all  three,  and  resolves 
the  universe,  so  far  as  we  have  any  means  of  knowing,  into  a 
“  Succession  of  .apiaeargnces.”  Agnosticism  would  place  behind 
these  phenomena  an  inscrutable  “  energy,”  its  definition  of  the 
third  element. 

Pantheism  identifies  God  with  the  world,  or  the  sum  total  of 
being.  It  differs  from  Atheism  in  holding  to  something  besides 
and  beneath  finite  things,  —  an  all-pervading  Cause  or  Essence. 
It  differs  from  Deism  in  denying  that  God  is  separate  from  the 
world,  and  that  the  world  is  sustained  and  guided  by  energies 
exerted  from  without.  It  does  not  differ  from  Theism  in  affirm¬ 
ing  the  immanence  of  God,  for  on  this  Theism  likewise  insists ; 
but  it  differs  from  Theism  in  denying  to  the  immanent  Power  dis¬ 
tinct  consciousness  and  will,  and  an  existence  not  dependent  on 
the  world.  Pantheism  deifies,  and  Theism  asserts,  creation. 
With  the  denial  to  God  of  will  and  conscious  intelligence,  Panthe¬ 
ism  excludes  design.  Finite  things  emerge  into  being,  and  pass 
away,  and  the  course  of  nature  proceeds  through  the  perpetual 
operation  of  an  agency  which  has  no  cognizance  of  its  work  except 
so  far  as  it  may  arrive  at  self-consciousness  in  man. 

In  the  system  of  Spinoza,  the  most  celebrated  and  influential 
of  modern  Pantheists,  it  is  asserted  that  there  is,  and  can  be,  but 
one  substance,  —  unci  et  unica  substantia .  Of  the  infinite  number 
of  infinite  attributes  which  constitute  the  one  substance,  two  are 
discerned  by  us,  —  extension  and  thought.  These,  distinct  in  our 
perception,  are  not  disparate  in  the  substance.  Both  being  mani- 

63 


64  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


festations  of  a  simple  identical  essence,  the  order  of  existence  is 
parallel  to  the  order  of  thought.  All  individual  things  are  modes 
of  one  or  the  other  of  the  attributes,  that  is,  of  the  substance  as  far 
as  it  is  discerned  by  us.  There  is  a  complete  correspondence  or 
harmony,  although  there  is  no  reciprocal  influence,  between  bodies 
and  minds.  But  the  modes  do  not  make  up  the  substance,  which 
is  prior  to  them ;  they  are  transient  as  ripples  on  the  surface  of 
the  sea.  The  imagination  regards  them  as  entities ;  but  reason 
looks  beneath  them,  to  the  eternal  essence  of  which  they  are  but 
a  fleeting  manifestation. 

No  philosopher,  with  the  possible  exception  of  Aristotle,  has 
been  more  lauded  for  his  rigorous  logic  than  Spinoza.  In  truth, 
few  philosophers  have  included  more  fallacies  in  the  exposition  of 
their  systems.  The  pages  of  the  Ethics  swarm  with  paralogisms, 
all  veiled  under  the  forms  of  rigid  mathematical  statement.  His 
fundamental  definitions,  whatever  verbal  precision  may  belong  to 
them,  are,  as  regards  the  realities  of  being,  unproved  assumptions. 
His  reasoning,  from  beginning  to  end,  is  vitiated  by  the  realistic 
presupposition  that  the  actual  existence  of  a  being  can  be  inferred 
from  the  definition  of  a  word.  He  falls  into  this  mistake  of  find¬ 
ing  proof  of  the  reality  of  a  thing  from  the  contents  of  a  concep¬ 
tion,  in  his  very  first  definition,  where  he  says,  “  By  that  which  is 

the  cause  of  itself,  I  understand  that  whose  essence  involves  exist- 

/  / 

ence,  or  that  whose  nature  can  only  be  conceived  as  existent.” 
His  argument  is  an  argument  from  definitions,  without  having 
offered  proof  of  the  existence  of  the  thing  defined.  Spinoza  fails 
to  prove  that  only  one  substance  can  exist,  and  that  no  other  sub¬ 
stance  can  be  brought  into  being  which  is  capable  of  self-activity, 
though  dependent  for  the  origin  and  continuance  of  its  existence 
upon  another.  Why  the  one  and  simple  substance  should  have 
modes ;  why  it  should  have  these  discoverable  modes,  and  no 
other ;  how  the  modes  of  thought  and  extension  are  made  to  run 
parallel  with  each  other ;  how  the  infinite  variety  of  modes,  em¬ 
bracing  stars  and  suns,  men  and  animals,  minds  and  bodies,  and 
all  other  finite  things,  are  derived  in  their  order  and  place, — 
these  are  problems  with  regard  to  which  the  system  of  Spinoza, 
though  professing  to  explain  the  universe  by  a  method  purely  de¬ 
ductive,  leaves  us  wholly  in  the  dark.1 

1One  of  the  hard  questions  proposed  to  Spinoza  by  Tschirnhausern,  his 
correspondent,  was,  how  the  existence  and  variety  of  external  things  is  to  be 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-THEISTIC  THEORIES 


65 


The  ideal  Pantheism  of  Fichte,  Schilling,  and  Hegel  pursues 
a  different  path.  It  undertakes  still  to  unveil  the  Absolute  Being, 
and  from  the~Absolute  to  trace  the  evolution  of  all  concrete  exist¬ 
ences,  mental  and  material.  The  Absolute  in  Fichte  is  the  univer- 
sal  ego,  of  which  individual  minds,  together  with  external  things, 
the  objects  of  thought,  are  the  phenomenal  product,  —  a  univer¬ 
sal  ego  which  is  void  of  consciousness,  and  of  which  it  is  vain  to 
attempt  to  form  a  conception.  The  impression  we  have  of  exter¬ 
nality  is  from  the  check  put  upon  the  self-activity  of  the  mind  by 
its  own  inward  law.  From  this  Solipsism  —  Panegoism,  it  is  some¬ 
times  styled  —  Fichte  sought  in  his  ethical  philosophy  for  a  place 
for  a  plurality  of  egos,  and  a  substitute  for  Theism  in  the  system  of 
moral  order.  Rebelling,  avoiding  Idealism,  made  the  Absolute  the 
point  of  indifference  and  common  basis  of  subject  and  object. 
For  the  perception  of  this  impersonal  Deity,  which  is  assumed 
to  be  indefinable,  and  not  an  object  of  thought,  he  postulated  an 
impossible  faculty  of  intellectual  intuition,  wherein  the  individual 
escapes  from  himself,  and  so^rs  above  the  conditions  or  essential 
limits  of  conscious  thinking  in  a  finite  mind.  Hegel  advances 
upon  the  same  path.  He  discerns  and  repudiates  the  one-sided 
position  of  Kant  in  resolving  our  knowledge  of  nature,  beyond  the 
bare  fact  of  its  existence,  into  a  subjective  process.  The  divine 
reason  is  immanent  in  the  world  and  apprehensible  by  man.  There 
is  a  rationality  in  nature  and  in  human  history.  But  Hegel  swings 
to  the  opposite  extreme,  and  identifies  object  and  subject,  thing 
and  thinker,  as  in  essence  one.  Starting,  like  Schelling,  with  this 
assumption  that  subject  and  object,  thought  and  thing,  are  identi¬ 
cal,  he  ventures  on  the  bold  emprise  of  setting  down  all  the  suc¬ 
cessive  stages  through  which  thought  in  its  absolute  or  most  general 
form,  by  means  of  a  kind  of  momentum  assumed  to  inhere  in  it, 
develops  the  entire  chain  of  concepts,  or  the  whole  variety  and 
aggregate  of  particular  existences,  up  to  the  point  where,  in  the 
mental  movement  of  the  philosopher,  the  universe  thus  constituted 
attains  to  complete  self-consciousness.  In  the  logic  of  Hegel,  we 
are  told,  the  universe  reveals  itself  to  the  spectator  with  no  aid 
from  experience  in  the  process  of  its  self-unfolding.  The  complex 
organism  of  thought,  which  is  identical  with  the  world  of  being, 
evolves  itself  under  his  eye. 

deduced  from  the  attribute  of  extension.  See  Pollock,  Spinoza ,  His  Life  and 
Philosophy,  p.  173. 


t 


66  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

There  is  a  difficulty,  to  begin  with,  in  this  self-evolving  of  “  the 
idea.”  Motion  is  presupposed,  and  motion  is  a  conception  de¬ 
rived  from  experience.  Moreover,  few  critics  at  present  would 
contend  that  all  the  links  in  this  metaphysical  chain  are  forged  of 
solid  metal.  There  are  breaks  which  are  filled  up  with  an  unsub¬ 
stantial  substitute  for  it.  Transitions  are  effected  —  for  example, 
where  matter,  or  life,  or  mind  emerge  —  rather  by  sleight  of  hand 
than  by  a  legitimate  application  of  the  logical  method.  But  if  it 
were  granted  that  the  edifice  is  compact,  and  coherent  in  all  its 
parts,  it  is  still  only  a  ghostly  castle.  It  is  an  ideal  skeleton  of  a 
universe.  Its  value  is  at  best  hypothetical  and  negative.  The 
universe  is  more  than  a  string  of  abstractions.  This  was  forcibly 
stated  in  the  criticism  by  Schelling  in  his  later  system.  If  a  world 
were  to  exist,  and  to  be  rationally  framed,  it  might  possibly  be  con¬ 
formed  to  this  conception  or  outline.  Whether  the  world  is  a  real¬ 
ity,  experience  alone  can  determine.  The  highest  merit  which  can 
be  claimed  for  the  ideal  scheme  of  Hegel  is  such  as  belongs  to  the 
plans  of  an  architect  as  they  are  conceived  in  his  mind,  before  a 
beginning  has  been  made  of  the  edifice,  or  the  spade  has  touched 
the  ground.  The  radical  fault  of  the  Hegelian  system,  and  its 
erroneous  implications,  are  not  averted  by  the  numerous  enlight¬ 
ened  comments  on  the  constitution  of  nature,  and  especially  on 
the  philosophy  of  history.1 

Independently  of  other  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the  various 
theories  of  Pantheism  which  have  been  propounded  in  ancient 
and  modern  times,  it  is  a  sufficient  refutation  of  them  that  they 
stand  in  contradiction  to  consciousness,  and  that  they  are  at  vari¬ 
ance  with  conscience.  It  is  through  self-consciousness  that  our 
first  notion  of  substance  and  of  .unity  is  derived.  The  manifold 
operations  of  thought,  feeling,  imagination,  memory,  affection,  con¬ 
sciously  proceed  from  a  single  source  within.  The  mind  is  revealed 
to  itself  as  a  separate,  substantial,  undivided  entity.  Pantheism, 
in  resolving  personal  being  into  a  mere  phenomenon,  or  a  phase 
of  an  impersonal  essence,  and  in  abolishing  the  gulf  of  separation 
between  the  subject  and  the  object,  clashes  with  the  first  and 
clearest  affirmation  of  consciousness.2 

1  Of  course,  there  was  a  Theistic  school  of  interpreters  of  Hegel.  Others 
have  sought  to  graft  Theism  upon  Hegelianism.  The  consideration  of  these 
phases  of  opinion,  including  the  more  recent  “  Neo-Hegelian  ”  speculation, 
would  be  out  of  place  here. 

2  See  Appendix,  Note  5. 


\ 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-THEISTIC  THEORIES 


6; 


Every  system  of  Pantheism  is  necessitarian.  It  is  vain  to  say, 
that,  where  there  is  no  constraint  from  without,  there  is  freedom 
of  the  will.  A  plant  growing  out  of  a  seed  would  not  become  free 
by  becoming  conscious.  The  determinism  which  refers  all  volun¬ 
tary  action  to  a  force  within,  which  is  capable  of  moving  only  on 
one  line,  and  is  incapable  of  alternative  action,  is  equivalent,  in  its 
bearing  on  responsibility,  to  fatalism.  On  this  theory,  moral 
accountableness  is  an  illusion.1  No  distinction  is  left  between 
natural  history  and  moral  history.  Pantheism  sweeps  away  the 
absolute  antithesis  between  good  and  evil,  the  perception  of  which 
is  the  very  life  of  conscience.  Under  that  philosophy,  evil,  wher¬ 
ever  it  occurs,  is  normah  Evil,  when  viewed  in  all  its  relations,  is 
good.  It  appears  to  be  the  opposite  of  good,  only  when  it  is  con¬ 
templated  in  a  more  restricted  relation,  and  from  a  point  of  view 
too  confined.  Such  a  judgment  respecting  moral  evil  undermines 
morality  in  theory,  and,  were  it  acted  on,  would  corrupt  society. 
It  would  dissolve  the  bonds  of  obligation.  In  the  proportion  in 
which  the  unperverted  moral  sense  corresponds  to  the  reality  of 
things,  to  that  extent  is  Pantheism  in  all  of  its  forms  disproved. 

Positivism  is  the  antipode  of  Pantheistic  philosophy.  So  far 
from  laying  claim  to  omniscience,  it  goes  to  the  other  extreme  of 
disclaiming  all  knowledge  of  the  origin  of  things  or  of  their  interior 
nature.  A  fundamental  principle  of  Positivism,  as  expounded  by 
Comte,  is  the  ignoring  of  both  efficient  and  final  causes.  There  is 
no  proof,  it  is  affirmed,  that  such  causes  exist.  Science  takes 
notice  of  naught  but  phenomena  presented  to  the  senses.  The 
whole  function  of  science  is  to  classify  facts  under  the  rubrics  of 
similarity  and  sequence.  The  sum  of  human  knowledge  hath  this 
extent,  no  more.  As  for  any  links  of  connection  between  phenom¬ 
ena,  or  any  plan  under  which  they  occur,  science  knows  nothing 
of  either. 

But  where  do  we  get  the  notion  of  similarity,  and  of  simultaneity 
and  succession  in  time  ?  The  senses  do  not  provide  us  with  these 
ideas.  At  the  threshold,  then,  Positivism  renounces  its  own  primary 
maxim.  The  principle  of  causation  and  the  perception  of  design 
have  a  genesis  which  entitles  them  to  not  less  credit  than  is  given 
to  the  recognition  of  likeness  and  temporal  sequence.  A  Posi¬ 
tivist,  however  disposed,  with  M.  Comte,  to  discard  psychology, 

1  This  has  been  shown  above,  in  ch.  i.  See,  also,  J.  Martineau,  A  Study  of 
Spinoza ,  p.  233. 


68  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


must  admit  that  there  are  mental  phenomena.  He  must  admit 
that  they  form  together  a  group  having  a  distinct  character.  He 
must  refer  them  to  a  distinct  spiritual  entity,  or  to  a  material 
origin,  in  which  case  he  lapses  into  Materialism. 

The  law  of  three  successive  states,  — ■  the  religious,  the  meta¬ 
physical,  and  the  positive,  —  which  Comte  asserted  to  belong  to 
the  history  of  thought,  —  this  law,  in  the  form  in  which  it  was  pro¬ 
claimed  by  Comte,  is  without  foundation  in  historical  fact.  Belief 
in  a  personal  God  has  coexisted,  and  does  now  coexist,  in  con¬ 
nection  with  a  belief  in  second  causes,  and  loyalty  to  the  maxims 
of  inductive  investigation. 

J.  S.  Mill,  while  adhering  to  the  proposition  that  we  know  only 
phenomena,  attempted  to  rescue  the  Positivist  scheme  from  scepti¬ 
cism,  which  is  its  proper  corollary,  by  holding  to  something  exterior 
to  us,  which  is  “  the  permanent  possibility  of  sensations,”  and  by 
speaking  of  “  a  thread  of  consciousness.”  But  matter  cannot  be 
made  a  something  which  produces  sensations,  without  giving  up  the 
Positivist  denial  both  of  causation  and  of  our  knowledge  of  any¬ 
thing  save  phenomena.  Nor  is  it  possible  to  speak  of  a  “  thread 
of  consciousness,”  if  there  be  nothing  in  the  mind  but  successive 
states  of  consciousness.  Mr.  Mill  was  bound  by  a  logical  necessity 
to  deny  the  existence  of  anything  except  mental  sensations, — 
phenomena  of  his  own  individual  consciousness ;  or  if  he  over¬ 
stepped  the  limit  of  phenomena,  and  believed  in  “  a  something,” 
whether  material  or  mental,  he  did  it  at  the  sacrifice  of  his  funda¬ 
mental  doctrine.1 

The  principal  adversaries  of  Theism  at  the  present  day  are 
Materialism  and  Agnosticism.  Materialism  is  the  doctrine  that 
mind  has  no  existence  except  as  a  function  of  the  body :  it  is  a 
product  of  organization.  In  its  crass  form,  Materialism  affirms 
that  the  brain  secretes  thought  as  the  liver  secretes  bile.  This 
exploded  view  involves  the  notion  that  thought  is  a  material  sub¬ 
stance  contained  somehow  in  the  brain.  In  its  more  refined  state¬ 
ment,  Materialism  asserts  that  thought,  feeling,  volition,  are 
phenomena  of  the  nervous  organism,  as  magnetism  is  the  property 
of  the  loadstone.  Thought  is  compared  to  a  flame,  which  first 
burns  faintly,  then  more  brightly,  then  flickers,  and  at  length  goes 
out,  as  the  material  source  of  combustion  is  consumed  or  dissipated. 

1  See  remarks  of  Dr.  Flint,  Antitheistic  Theories ,  pp.  185,  186. 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-THEISTIC  THEORIES 


6  9 


Materialism  is  a  theory  which  was  brought  forward  in  very 
ancient  times.  It  is  not  open  to  the  reproach,  nor  can  it  boast  of 
the  attraction,  of  novelty.  And  it  deserves  to  be  remarked,  that 
the  data  on  which  its  merit  as  a  theory  is  to  be  judged  remain 
substantially  unaltered.  It  is  a  serious  though  frequent  mistake  to 
think  that  modern  physiology,  in  its  microscopic  examination  of 
the  brain,  has  discovered  any  new  clew  to  the  solution  of  the  prob¬ 
lem  of  the  relation  of  the  brain  to  the  mind.  The  evidences  of 
the  close  connection  and  interaction  of  mind  and  body,  or  of 
mental  and  physical  states,  are  not  more  numerous  or  more  plain 
now  than  they  have  always  been.  That  fatigue  dulls  the  attention, 
that  narcotics  stimulate  or  stupefy  the  powers  of  thought  and  emo¬ 
tion,  that  fever  may  produce  delirium,  and  a  blow  on  the  head 
may  suspend  consciousness,  are  facts  with  which  mankind  have 
always  been  familiar.  The  influence  of  the  body  on  the  mind  is  in 
countless  ways  manifest.  On  the  contrary,  that  the  physical  organ¬ 
ism  is  affected  by  mental  states  is  an  equally  common  experience. 
The  feeling  of  guilt  sends  the  blood  to  the  cheek ;  fear  makes  the 
knees  quake ;  joy  and  love  brighten  the  eye ;  the  will  curbs  and 
controls  the  bodily  organs,  or  puts  them  in  motion  in  obedience  to 
its  behest.  But  there  is  no  warrant  in  the  interaction  of  mind  and 
body  for  the  opinion  that  the  latter,  or  any  other  extra-mental 
reality,  is  the  cause  or  the  subject  of  mental  cognition. 

Not  only  are  the  facts  on  either  side  familiar  to  everybody,  but 
no  nearer  approach  has  been  made  toward  bridging  the  gulf 
between  physical  states  —  in  particular,  molecular  movements  of 
the  brain  —  and  consciousness.  Says  Tyndall,  “The  passage  from 
the  physics  of  the  brain  to  the  corresponding  facts  of  conscious¬ 
ness  is  unthinkable.  Granted  that  a  definite  thought  and  a  defi¬ 
nite  molecular  action  in  the  brain  occur  simultaneously,  we  do  not 
possess  the  intellectual  organ,  nor  apparently  any  rudiment  of  the 
organ,  which  would  enable  us  to  pass  by  a  process  of  reasoning 
from  the  one  to  the  other.  They  appear  together,  but  we  do  not 
know  why.  Were  our  minds  and  senses  so  expanded,  strength¬ 
ened,  and  illuminated  as  to  enable  us  to  see  and  feel  the  very 
molecules  of  the  brain  ;  were  we  capable  of  following  their  mo¬ 
tions,  all  their  groupings,  all  their  electric  discharges,  if  such  there 
be ;  and  were  we  intimately  acquainted  with  the  corresponding 
states  of  thought  and  feeling,  —  we  should  be  as  far  as  ever  from 
the  solution  of  the  problem,  How  are  these  physical  states  con- 


7 O  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


nected  with  the  facts  of  consciousness?”1  This  is  said,  be  it 
observed,  on  the  supposition  of  a  sweeping  psycho-physical  paral¬ 
lelism  between  physical  and  mental  states,  which  is  incapable  of 
proof.  Close  as  is  the  relation  of  the  brain  and  the  mind,  the 
field  is  often  left  in  the  main  to  the  self-activity  of  each  according 
to  its  own  nature.  Not  even  a  Materialist,  however,  doubts  that 
there  is  a  class  of  phenomena  which  no  physical  observation  is 
capable  of  revealing.  If  the  brain  of  Sophocles,  when  he  was 
composing  the  Antigone,  had  been  laid  bare,  and  the  observer 
had  possessed  an  organ  of  vision  capable  of  discerning  every 
movement  within  it,  he  would  have  perceived  not  the  faintest 
trace  of  the  thoughts  which  enter  into  that  poem,  —  or  of  the 
sentiments  that  inspired  the  author.  One  might  as  well  cut  open 
a  bean-stalk,  or  search  a  handful  of  sand,  in  the  hope  of  finding 
thought  and  emotion. 

It  is  easy  to  prove,  and  it  has  been  proved,  that  Materialism 
regarded  as  a  theory  is  self-destructive.  If  opinion  is  not  the 
product  of  the  mind’s  own  self-activity,  but  is  merely  a  product 
of  the  molecular  motion  of  nervous  substance,  on  what  ground  is 
one  opinion  preferred  to  another?  What  is  the  criterion  for  the 
judgment?  Is  not  one  shuffle  of  atoms  as  normal  as  another? 
if  not,  by  what  criterion  is  one  to  be  approved,  and  the  other 
rejected?  How  can  either  be  said  to  be  true  or  false,  when  both 
are  equally  necessary,  and  there  is  no  norm  to  serve  as  a  touch¬ 
stone  of  their  validity?  It  is  impossible  to  pronounce  one  kind 
of  brain  normal,  and  another  abnormal ;  since  the  rule  on  which 
the  distinction  is  to  be  made  is  itself  a  mere  product  of  molecular 
action,  and  therefore  possessed  of  no  independent,  objective  va¬ 
lidity.  To  declare  a  given  doctrine  true,  and  another  false,  when 
each  has  the  same  justification  as  the  rule  on  which  they  are 
judged,  is  a  suicidal  proceeding.  Like  absurdities  follow  the 
assertion  by  a  materialist  that  one  thing  is  morally  right,  and  an¬ 
other  morally  wrong,  one  thing  noble,  and  another  base,  one  thing 
wise,  and  another  foolish.  There  is  no  objective  truth,  no  crite¬ 
rion  having  any  surer  warrant  than  the  objects  to  which  it  is 
applied.  There  is  no  judge  between  the  parties  ;  the  judge  is 
himself  a  party  on  trial.  Thus  Materialism  lapses  into  scepticism. 

1  Fragments  of  Science,  p.  121 ;  5th  ed.,  p.  42.  Declarations  apparently  of 
the  same  purport  occur  occasionally,  —  yet,  as  in  Tyndall,  inconsistently,  —  in 
Spencer.  See  his  Psychology ,  vol.  i.  §§  62,  272. 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-THEISTIC  THEORIES 


7 1 


Physiology  is  powerless  to  explain  the  simple  fact  of  sense-percep¬ 
tion,  or  the  rudimental  feeling  at  the  basis  of  it.  A  wave  of  tenu¬ 
ous  ether  strikes  on  the  retina  of  the  eye.  The  impact  of  the 
ether  induces  a  molecular  motion  in  the  optic  nerve,  which,  in 
turn,  produces  a  corresponding  effect  in  the  sensorium  lodged  in 
the  skull.  On  this  condition  there  ensues  a  feeling;  but  this  feel¬ 
ing,  a  moment’s  reflection  will  show,  is  something  totally  dissimi¬ 
lar  to  the  wave- motions  which  preceded  and  provoked  it.  But, 
further,  in  the  act  of  perception  the  mind  attends  to  the  sensation, 
and  compares  one  sensation  with  another.  This  discrimination  is 
a  mental  act  on  which  Materialism  sheds  not  the  faintest  ray  of 
light.  The  facts  of  memory,  of  conception,  and  reasoning,  the 
phenomena  of  conscience,  the  operations  of  the  will,  —  of  these 
the  Materialistic  theory  can  give  no  reasonable  or  intelligible 
account.  The  Materialist  is  obliged  to  deny  moral  freedom.  Vol¬ 
untary  action  he  holds  to  be  necessitated  action.  The  conscious¬ 
ness  of  liberty  with  the  corresponding  feelings  of  self-approbation 
or  guilt  are  stigmatized  as  delusive.''  No  man  could  have  chosen 
or  acted  otherwise  than  in  fact  he  did.  choose  or  act,  any  more 
than  he  could  have  added  a  cubit  to  his  stature.  Of  the  origin 
and  persistency  of  these  ideas  and  convictions  of  the  soul,  Mate¬ 
rialism  hopelessly  fails  to  give  any  rational  account. 

Materialism,  as  it  is  usually  held  at  present,  starts  with  the  fact 
of  the  simultaneity  of  thought  and  molecular  changes.  This  is  so 
far  exaggerated  as  to  make  it  inclusive  of  all  mental  action.  This 
is  the  doctrine  of  “  psycho-physical  parallelism  ”  or  “  conscious 
automatism.”  If  there  were  ground  for  this  untenable  assumption, 
the  task  would  remain  of  showing  how  the  former  are  produced  by 
the  latter.  How  do  brain-movements  produce  thought-move¬ 
ments?  If  consciousness  enters  as  an  effect  into  the  chain  of 
molecular  motion,  then,  by  the  accepted  law  of  conservation  and 
correlation,  consciousness,  in  turn,  is  a  cause  reacting  upon  the 
brain.  But  this  conclusion  is  directly  contrary  to  the  Materialistic 
theory,  and  is  accordingly  rejected.  It  will  not  do  to  allow  that 
force  is  convertible  into  consciousness.  There  must  be  no  break 
in  the  physical  chain.  Consciousness  is  excluded  from  being  a 
link  in  this  chain.  Consciousness  can  subtract  no  force  from 
matter.  It  will  not  do  to  answer  that  consciousness  is  the  attend¬ 
ant  of  the  motions  of  matter.  What  causes  it  to  attend?  What  is 
the  ground  of  what  parallelism  exists  between  the  series  of  mental 


72  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


and  the  series  of  material  manifestations  ?  Is  it  from  the  nature  of 
matter  that  both  alike  arise  ?  Then,  how  can  thought  be  denied 
to  be  a  link  in  the  physical  series  ?  If  it  be  some  form  of  being 
neither  material  nor  mental,  the  same  consequence  follows,  and  all 
the  additional  difficulties  are  incurred  which  belong  to  the  monis¬ 
tic  doctrine  of  Spinoza.  A  refuge  is  sought  in  the  self-contradictory 
notion  of  “  epiphenomena,”  or  concomitants  which  are  not  effects 
but  which  are  figuratively  designated  as  shadows  of  molecular 
action  !  There  are  limits  to  the  interaction  of  the  brain  and  the 
mind  ;  there  are  distinct  groups  of  phenomena ;  all  mental  states,  * 
including  sensations  so  far  as  consciousness  is  involved,  have  their 
invisible  centre  and  source  in  the  indivisible  self. 

Such  is  the  mire  into  which  one  falls  upon  the  attempt  to 
hold  that  man  is  a  conscious  automaton.  It  is  not  escaped  by 
imagining  matter  to  be  endowed  with  mystical  and  marvellous 
capacities,  which  would  make  it  different  from  itself,  and  endue 
it  with  a  heterogeneous  nature.  Secret  potencies,  after  the  man¬ 
ner  of  the  hylozoist  Pantheism  of  the  ancients,  are  attributed  to 
the  primeval  atoms.  “  Mind-stuff,”  or  an  occult  mentality,  is 
imagined  to  reside  in  the  clod,  or,  to  make  the  idea  more  attrac¬ 
tive,  in  the  effulgent  sun.  The  Platonic  philosophy  is  said  to  lurk 
potentially  in  its  beams.  This  is  fancy,  not  science.  The  reality 
of  a  mental  subject,  in  which  the  modes  of  consciousness  have  their 
unity,  is  implied  in  the  language  of  Materialists,  even  when  they 
are  advocating  their  theory.  The  presence  of  a  personal  agent 
by  whom  thoughts  and  things  are  compared,  their  order  of  suc¬ 
cession  observed,  and  their  origin  investigated,  is  constantly 
assumed. 

The  proposition  that  the  ideas  of  cause  and  effect,  substance, 
self,  etc.,  which  are  commonly  held  to  be  of  subjective  origin,  are  the 
product  of  sensations,  and  derived  from  experience,  is  disproved 
by  the  fact  that  experience  is  impossible  without  them.  In  estab¬ 
lishing  the  a  priori  character  of  the  intuitions,  Kant  accomplished 
a  work  which  forever  excludes  Materialism  from  being  the  creed 
of  any  but  confused  and  illogical  reasoners. 

Agnosticism,  the  system  of  Herbert  Spencer,  includes  disbelief 
in  the  personality  of  God,  but  also  equally  in  the  personality  of 
man.  There  is,  of  course,  the  verbal  admission  of  a  subject  and 
object  of  knowledge.  This  distinction,  it  is  even  said,  is  “the 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-THEISTIC  THEORIES 


73 


consciousness  of  a  difference  transcending  all  other  differences.”  1 
But  subject  and  object,  knower  and  thing  known,  are  pro¬ 
nounced  to  be  purely  phenomenal.  The  reality  behind  them  is 
said  to  be  utterly  incognizable.  Nothing  is  known  of  it  but  its 
bare  existence.  So,  too,  we  are  utterly  in  the  dark  as  to  the  rela¬ 
tions  subsisting  among  things  as  distinguished  from  their  transfig¬ 
ured  manifestations  in  consciousness ;  for  these  manifestations 
reveal  nothing  save  the  bare  existence  of  objects,  together  with  rela¬ 
tions  between  them  which  are  perfectly  inscrutable.  The  phenom¬ 
ena  are  symbols,  but  they  are  symbols  only  in  the  algebraic  sense. 
They  are  not  pictures,  they  are  not  representations  of  the  objects 
that  produce  them.  They  are  effects,  in  consciousness,  of  un¬ 
known  agencies.  The  order  in  which  the  effects  occur  suggests, 
we  are  told,  a  corresponding  order  in  these  agencies.  But  what 
is  “  order,”  what  is  regularity  of  succession,  when  predicted  of 
noumena,  but  words  void  of  meaning?  “What  we  are  conscious 
of  as  properties  of  matter,  even  down  to  its  weight  and  resistance, 
are  but  subjective  affections  produced  by  objective  agencies 
which  are  unknown  and  unknowable.”  2  These  effects  are  generi- 
cally  classified  as  qoatter,  motion,  and  force.  These  terms  express 
certain  “likenesses  of  kind,”  the  most  general  likenesses,  in  the 
subjective  affections  thus  produced.  There  are  certain  likenesses 
of  connection  in  these  effects,  which  we  class  as  laws.  Matter 
and  motion,  space  and  time,  are  reducible  to  force.  But  “  force  ” 
only  designates  the  subjective  affection  in  its  ultimate  or  most 
general  expression.  Of  force  as  an  objective  reality  we  know 
nothing.  It  follows  that  the  same  is  true  of  cause,  and  of  every 
other  term  descriptive  of  power.  There  is  power,  there  is  cause, 
apart  from  our  feeling ;  but  as  to  what  they  are  we  are  entirely  in 
the  dark.  “  The  interpretation  of  all  phenomena  in  terms  of  mat¬ 
ter,  motion,  and  force,  is  nothing  more  than  the  reduction  of  our 
complex  symbols  of  thought  to  the  simplest  symbols ;  and  when 
the  equation  is  brought  to  its  lowest  terms,  the  symbols  remain 
symbols  still.”3  Further,  the  world  of  consciousness  and  the 
world  of  things  as  apprehended  in  consciousness,  are  symbols  of  a 
reality  to  which  both  in  common  are  to  be  attributed.  “  A 
Power  of  which  the  nature  remains  forever  inconceivable,  and  to 
which  no  limits  in  Time  or  Space  can  be  imagined,  works  in  us 

1  Spencer,  Principles  of  Psychology ,  2d  ed.,  i.  157. 

2  Ibid.,  i.  493.  3  First  Principles,  2d  ed.,  p.  558. 


74  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


certain  effects.”  1  Thus  all  our  science  consists  in  a  classification 
of  states  of  consciousness  which  are  the  product  of  the  inscrutable 
Cause.  It  is  a  “  transfigured  Realism.”  Reality,  in  any  other 
sense,  is  a  terra  incognita. 

With  these  views  is  associated  Mr.  Spencer’s  doctrine  of  evolu¬ 
tion.  Evolution  is  the  method  of  action  of  the  inscrutable  force. 
He  is  positive  in  the  assertion  that  “  the  phenomena  of  Evolution 
are  to  be  deduced  from  the  Persistence  of  Force.”  By  this  he 
means  the  “  Absolute  Force”  —  “some  Cause,  which  transcends 
our  knowledge  and  conception.”  It  is  “  an  Unconditioned  Reality 
without  beginning  or  end.”  2  But  persistence  applied  to  phenome¬ 
nal  forces  signifies  that  these  in  their  totality  are  quantitatively 
constant.  This  could  not  be  said  of  the  Absolute  Force,  the 
Unknown  Cause.  Yet,  it  is  forces  in  th z  phenomenal  sense,  or  the 
conservation  of  energy,  which  is  made  the  starting-point  of  evolu¬ 
tion.  “  But  the  conservation  of  energy  is  not  a  law  of  change,  still 
less  a  law  of  qualities,”  whereas  the  celestial,  organic,  social,  and 
other  phenomena  which  make  up  what  Mr.  Spencer  calls  cosmic 
evolution,  are  so  many  series  of  qualitative  changes.4  “  The  con¬ 
servation  of  energy,”  as  Mr.  Ward  points  out,  “  does  not  initiate 
events,  and  furnishes  absolutely  no  clew  to  qualitative  diversity. 
It  is  entirely  a  quantitative  law.”  The  confusion  in  the  meaning 
attached  to  “  Persistence  of  Force  ”  makes  shipwreck  of  the  entire 
evolutionary  scheme  in  which  this  vague  and  ambiguous  phrase 
plays  so  important  a  part. 

We  can  only  glance  at  the  steps  of  the  process.  Homogeneous 
matter,  it  is  assumed,  diversifies  or  differentiates  itself.  A  passage 
from  inorganic  being  to  life  is  gained  only  by  a  leap.  The  develop¬ 
ment  is  represented  as  going  on  until  nervous  organism  arises,  and 
reaches  a  certain  stage  of  complexity,  when  sentience  appears,  and, 
at  length  personal  consciousness,  with  all  its  complexity  of  contents. 
But  consciousness  is  a  growth.  All  our  mental  life  is  woven  out 
of  sensations.  Intuitions  are  the  product  of  experience,  —  not  of 
the  individual  merely,  but  of  the  race,  since  the  law  of  heredity 
transmits  the  acquisitions  of  the  ancestor  to  his  progeny.  So  mind 
is  built  up  from  rudimental  sensations.  The  lowest  form  of  life 
issues  at  last  in  the  intellect  of  a  Bacon  or  a  Newton.  And  life, 
it  seems  to  be  held,  is  evolved  from  unorganized  matter. 

1  First  Principles,  p.  557.  2  Ibid.,  §  147.  3  Ibid.,  §  62. 

4  Ward,  Naturalism  and  Agnosticism ,  vol.  i.  p.  214. 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-T HEISTIC  THEORIES 


75 


What,  according  to  Spencer’s  own  principles,  are  “  matter,”  and 
“  nervous  organism,”  and  “  life,”  independently  of  consciousness 
and  when  there  is  no  consciousness  to  apprehend  them  ?  How 
can  Nature  be  used  to  beget  consciousness,  and  consciousness  be 
used,  in  turn,  to  beget  Nature?  How  are  reason,  imagination, 
memory,  conscience,  and  the  entire  stock  of  mental  experiences 
of  which  a  Leibnitz  or  a  Dante  is  capable,  evolved  from  gerve-sub- 
stance?  These  and  like  questions  we  waive,  and  direct  our  atten¬ 
tion  to  the  doctrine  of  “the  Unknowable.” 

What  is  “  the  Absolute  ”  and  “  the  Infinite  ”  which  are  declared 
to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  knowledge,  and  which,  the  moment  the 
knowing  faculty  attempts  to  deal  with  them,  lead  to  manifold  con¬ 
tradictions?  They  are  mere  abstractions.  They  have  no  other 
than  a  merely  verbal  existence.  They  are  reached  by  thinking 
away  all  limits,  all  conditions,  all  specific  qualities.  In  short,  “  the 
Absolute  ”  as  thus  described  is  nothing. 

The  attempt  is  made  to  exhibit  a  synthesis  of  “  the  detailed  phe¬ 
nomena  of  life  and  mind  and  society  in  terms  of  matter,  motion,  and 
force.” 1  But  the  “  synthesis,”  like  the  prior  “  analysis,”  confounds 
abstraction  with  analysis.  “  Knowledge  is  to  be  verified  by  ruth¬ 
lessly  abstracting  from  the  concrete  real  all  qualitative  specifica¬ 
tions.  Celestial  bodies,  organisms,  societies,  are  to  be  reduced  to 
their  lowest  terms,  viz.,  Matter,  Motion,  Force.”  What  is  merely 
“  a  generalization  from  the  material  world  ”  is  turned  into  an  instru¬ 
ment  for  retracing  a  path,  which  is  development  only  in  name.  In 
this  way,  the  world  of  things,  material  and  mental,  is  reconstructed. 
Things  are  evolved  which  were  not  involved. 

If  this  fictitious  Absolute  be  treated  as  real,  absurdities  follow.2 

1  Ward,  Naturalism  and  Agnosticism ,  i.  255  seq . 

2  The  antinomies  which  Kant  and  Hamilton  derive  from  a  quantitative  con¬ 
ception  of  the  Infinite  are  the  result.  The  antinomies  of  Kant,  and  of  Plamilton 
and  Mansel,  are  capable  of  being  resolved.  They  involve  fallacies.  A  quanti¬ 
tative  idea  of  the  Infinite  is  frequently  at  the  basis  of  the  assertion  that  con¬ 
tradictions  belong  to  the  conception  of  it.  The  Infinite  is  treated  as  if  it  were 
a  complete  whole,  i.e.  as  if  it  were  a  finite.  Plamilton’s  doctrine  of  nescience 
depends  partly  on  the  idea  of  “the  Infinite”  and  “the  Absolute”  as  mere 
abstractions ,  and  unrelated ’  and  partly  on  a  restricted  definition  of  knowledge. 
We  cannot  know  space,  he  tells  us,  as  absolutely  bounded,  or  as  infinitely  un¬ 
bounded.  The  first,  to  be  sure,  is  impossible,  because  it  is  contrary  to  the 
known  reality.  The  second  is  not  impossible.  True,  we  cannot  imagine  space 
as  complete  ;  we  cannot  imagine  all  space,  space  as  a  whole ,  because  this,  too,  is 
contrary  to  the  reality.  But  we  know  space  as  infinite  ;  that  is,  we  know  space 


y6  THE  GROUNDS  OB'  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


The  Absolute  which  Spencer  actually  places  at  the  foundation  of 
his  system  is  antithetical  to  relative  being  ;  it  is  correlated  to  the  rela¬ 
tive.  Moreover,  the  Absolute  comes  within  the  pale  of  conscious¬ 
ness,  be  the  cognition  of  it  however  vague.  Only  so  far  as  we  are 
conscious  of  it,  have  we  any  evidence  of  its  reality.  Moreover,  it 
is  the  cause  of  the  relative.  It  is  to  the  agency  of  the  Absolute  that 
all  states  of  consciousness  are  referable.  “  It  wo?'ks  in  us”  says 
Spencer,  “  certain  effects.”  Plainly,  the  Absolute,  the  real  Abso¬ 
lute,  is  related.  Only  as  related  in  the  ways  just  stated  is  its  exist¬ 
ence  known.  Mr.  Spencer  says  himself  that  the  mind  must  in 
“  some  dim  mode  of  consciousness  posit  a  non-relative,  and  in 
some  similarly  dim  mode  of  consciousness,  a  relation  between  it 
and  the  relative .” 1 

Plainly,  we  know  not  only  that  the  Absolute  is,  but  also,  to  the 
same  extent,  zvhat  it  is.  But  let  us  look  more  narrowly  at  the 
function  assigned  to  the  Absolute,  and  the  mode  in  which  we  as¬ 
certain  it.  Here  Mr.  Spencer  brings  in  the  principle  of  cause. 
The  Absolute  is  the  cause  of  both  subject  and  object.  And  the 
idea  of  cause  we  derive,  according  to  his  own  teaching,  from  the 
changes  of  consciousness  which  imply  causation.  “  The  force,” 
he  says,  “  by  which  we  ourselves  produce  changes,  and  which  serves 
to  symbolize  the  cause  of  changes  in  general,  is  the  final  disclos¬ 
ure  of  analysis.” 2  In  other  words,  the  experience  of  conscious 
causal  agency  in  ourselves  gives  us  the  idea  of  “  force.”  This  is 
“  the  original  datum  of  consciousness.”  This  is  all  we  know  of 
force.  Only  as  we  are  ourselves  conscious  of  power,  do  we  know  any¬ 
thing  of  power  in  the  universe.  Now,  Mr.  Spencer  chooses  to 
name  the  ultimate  reality  “  JEorce  ”  —  “  the  Absolute  Force.”  He 
declares  it  to  be  inscrutable ;  since  the  force  of  which  we  are 
immediately  conscious  is  not  persistent,  is  a  relative.  Yet  he  says 
that  he  means  by  it  “  the  persistence  of  some  cause  which  tran¬ 
scends  our  knowledge  and  conception.”  Take  away  cause  from 
the  Absolute,  and  nothing  is  left ;  and  the  only  cause  of  which  we 
have  any  idea  is  our  own  conscious  activity.  If  Mr.  Spencer  would 
make  the  causal  idea,  as  thus  derived,  the  symbol  for  the  interpre¬ 
tation  of  “changes  in  general”  he  would  be  a  Theist.  By  deftly 

and  know  not  only  that  we  cannot  limit  it,  but  positively  that  there  is  no  limit 
to  it.  We  know  what  power  is.  We  do  not  lose  our  notion  of  power  when  we 
predicate  infinitude  of  it.  It  is  power  still,  but  power  incapable  of  limit. 

1  Essays ,  vol.  iii.  pp.  293  seq.  2  First  Principles ,  p.  169. 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-THEISTIC  THEORIES 


77. 


resolving  cause  into  the  physical  idea  of  “  force,”  he  gives  to  his 
system  a  Pantheistic  character.  It  is  only  by  converting  the  a 
priori  idea  of  cause,  as  given  in  consciousness,  into  a  “  force  ” 
which  we  “  cannot  form  any  idea  of,”  and  which  he  has  no  war¬ 
rant  for  assuming,  that  he  avoids  Theism.1 

Let  us  observe  the  consequences  of  holding  the  Agnostic  rigidly 
to  his  own  principles. 

According  to  Mr.  Spencer’s  numerous  and  explicit  avowals,  all 
of  our  conceptions  and  language  respecting  nature  are  vitiated  by 
the  same  anthropomorphism  which  he  finds  in  the  ascribing  of  per¬ 
sonality  to  God.  All  science  is  made  out  to  be  a  mental  picture  to 
which  there  is  no  likeness  in  realities  outside  of  consciousness. 
To  speak  of  matter  as  impenetrable,  to  make  statements  respecting 
an  imponderable  ether,  molecular  movements,  atoms,  even  respect¬ 
ing  space,  time,  motion,  cause,  force,  is  to  talk  in  figures,  without 
the  least  knowledge  of  the  realities  denoted  by  them.  It  is  not  a 
case  where  a  symbol  is  adopted  to  signify  known  reality.  We 
cannot  compare  the  reality  with  the  symbol  or  notion,  because  of 
the  reality  we  have  not  the  slightest  knowledge.  When  we  speak, 
for  example,  of  the  vibrations  of  the  air,  we  have  not  the  least 

1  Later  expressions  of  Mr.  Spencer  indicate  a  nascent  disposition  to  cross 
the  limit  of  bald  phenomenalism  and  to  concede  that  the  “  Infinite  and  Eternal 
Energy,”  from  which  all  things  proceed,  “  is  not,  as  far  as  our  knowledge  is 
concerned,  an  absolute  blank.”  “  In  the  development  of  religion,”  he  says,  “  the 
last  stage  reached  is  recognition  of  the  truth  that  force  as  it  exists  beyond 
consciousness,  cannot  be  like  what  we  know  as  force  within  consciousness,  and 
that  yet,  as  either  is  capable  of  generating  the  other,  they  must  be  different 
modes  of  the  same.  .  .  .  Consequently  .  .  .  the  Power  manifested  throughout 
the  world  distinguished  as  material,  is  the  same  Power  which  in  ourselves 
wells  up  under  the  form  of  consciousness.”  “  We  are  thus  led,”  it  is  added, 
“to  rather  a  spiritualistic  than  a  materialistic  interpretation  of  the  universe.” 
But  in  the  context  these  qualifications  of  absolute  neutrality  between  the  two 
hypotheses,  and  from  absolute  ignorance  of  the  nature  of  the  primal  Energy, 
are  studiously  guarded.  See  Spencer’s  Principles  of  Sociology  (1896),  vol.  iii. 
p.  173,  §§  659,  660.  Mr.  John  Fiske  goes,  perhaps,  farther  in  the  right  direc¬ 
tion  than  Mr.  Spencer.  He  believes  that  “  the  Infinite  Power  which  is  mani¬ 
fested  in  the  universe  is  essentially  psychical  in  its  nature,  that  between  God 
and  the  Human  Soul  there  is  a  real  kinship,  although  we  may  be  unable  to 
render  any  scientific  account  of  it.”  Through  Nature  to  God,  p.  162.  He 
protests  against  attempts  “  to  take  away  from  our  notion  of  God  the  human 
element  ”  (p.  166).  Yet  he  fails  to  justify  explicitly  in  our  conception  the 
elements  which  are  essential  in  real  personality  and  warrant  us  in  containing 
in  it,  for  substance,  the  truth  that  He  hears  and  answers  prayer. 


78  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


knowledge  either  of  what  the  air  is,  or  of  what  vibrations  are.  We 
are  merely  giving  name  to  an  unknown  cause  of  mental  states  ;  but 
even  of  cause  itself,  predicated  of  the  object  in  itself,  and  of  what 
is  meant  by  its  agency  in  giving  rise  to  effects  in  us,  we  are  as  igno¬ 
rant  as  a  blind  man  of  colors.  Mr.  Spencer  says  that  matter  is 
probably  composed  of  ultimate,  homogeneous  units.1  He  appears 
in  various  places,  to  think  well  of  the  atomic  theory  of  matter. 
But  if  he  is  speaking  of  matter  as  it  is,  independently  of  our  sensa¬ 
tions,  he  forgets,  when  he  talks  thus,  the  fundamental  doctrine  of 
his  philosophy.  He  undertakes  to  tell  us  about  realities,  when  he 
cannot  consistently  speak  of  aught  but  their  algebraic  symbols,  or 
the  phenomena  of  consciousness.  The  atomic  theory  of  matter 
carries  us  as  far  into  the  unknown  realm  of  ontology  as  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  the  personality  of  the  Absolute,  or  any  other  proposition 
embraced  in  Christian  Theism. 

It  is  obvious  that  Agnosticism  is  the  destruction  of  science.-  All 
the  investigations  and  reasonings  of  science  proceed  on  the  founda¬ 
tion  of  axioms,  —  call  them  intuitions,  rational  postulates,  or  by 
any  other  name.  But  these,  according  to  Agnostics,  denote  simply 
a  certain  stage  at  which  the  process  of  evolution  has  arrived. 
What  is  to  hinder  them  from  vanishing,  or  resolving  themselves 
into  another  set  of  axioms,  with  the  forward  movement  of  this 
unresting  process?  What  then  will  become  of  the  doctrines  of 
Agnosticism  itself  ?  It  is  plain  that  on  this  philosophy,  all  knowl¬ 
edge  of  realities,  as  distinct  from  transitory  impressions,  is  a  house 
built  on  the  sand.  All  science  is  reduced  to  Schein —  mere  sem¬ 
blance. 

It  is  impossible  for  the  Agnostic  to  limit  his  knowledge  to 
experience,  and  to  reject  as  unverified  the  implications  of  experi¬ 
ence,  without  abandoning  nearly  all  that  he  holds  true.  If  he 
sticks  to  his  principle,  his  creed  will  be  a  short  one.  Conscious¬ 
ness  is  confined  to  the  present  moment.  I  am  conscious  of 
remembering  an  experience  in  the  past.  This  consciousness  as  a 
present  fact  I  cannot  deny  without  a  contradiction.  But  how  do 
I  know  that  the  object  of  the  recollection  —  be  it  a  thought,  or 
feeling,  or  experience  of  any  sort  —  ever  had  a  reality  ?  How  do  I 
know  anything  past,  or  that  there  is  a  past?  Now,  memory  is 
necessary  to  the  comparison  of  sensations,  to  reasoning,  to  our 
whole  mental  life.  Yet  to  believe  in  memory  is  to  transcend 

1  Principles  of  Psychology,  vol.  i.  p.  157. 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-THEISTIC  THEORIES 


79 


experience.  I  have  certain  sensations  which  I  attribute  collectively 
to  a  cause  named  my  “  body.”  Like  sensations  lead  me  to  recog¬ 
nize  the  existence  of  other  bodies  like  my  own.  But  how  do  I 
know  that  there  is  consciousness  within  these  bodies  ?  How  do  I 
know  that  my  fellow-men  whom  I  see  about  me  have  minds  like 
my  own?  The  senses  cannot  perceive  the  intelligence  of  the 
friends  about  me.  I  infer  that  they  are  intelligent,  but  in  this 
inference  I  transcend  experience.  Experience  reduced  to  its 
exact  terms,  according  to  the  methods  of  Agnosticism,  is  confined 
to  the  present  feeling,  —  the  feeling  of  the  transient  moment. 
When  the  Agnostic  goes  beyond  this,  when  he  infers  that  what  is 
remembered  was  once  presented  in  consciousness,  that  his  fellow- 
men  are  thinking  beings,  and  not  mindless  puppets,  that  any  intel¬ 
ligent  beings  exist  outside  of  himself,  he  transcends  experience. 
If  he  were  to  predicate  intelligence  of  God,  he  would  be  guilty  of  no 
graver  assumption  than  when  he  ascribes  intelligence  to  the  fellow- 
men  whom  he  sees  moving  about,  and  with  whom  he  is  conversing. 

The  Spencerian  identification  of  subject  and  object,  mind  and 
matter,  is  illusive  and  groundless.  They  are  declared  to  be  “  the 
subjective  and  objective  faces  of  the  same  thing.”  They  are 
said  to  be  “  the  opposite  faces  ”  of  one  reality.  Sometimes  they 
are  spoken  of  as  its  “inner  and  outer  side.”  On  the  one  side, 
we  are  told,  there  are  nerve-waves ;  on  the  other  there  are  feel¬ 
ings.  What  is  the  fact,  or  the  reality,  of  which  these  two  are 
“faces”  or  “sides”?  From  much  of  the  language  which  Mr. 
Spencer  uses  —  it  might  be  said,  from  the  general  drift  of  his 
remarks  —  the  impression  would  be  gained,  that  the  reality  is 
material,  and  that  feeling  is  the  mere  concomitant  or  effect.  But 
this  theorem  he  disavows.  He  even  says,  that,  as  between  ideal¬ 
ism  and  materialism,  the  former  is  to  be  preferred.1  More,  he 
tells  us,  can  be  alleged  for  it  than  for  the  opposite  theory.  The 
nerve-movement  is  phenomenal  not  less  than  the  feeling.  The 
two  are  coordinate.  The  fact  or  the  reality  is  to  be  distinguished 
from  both.  As  phenomena,  there  are  two.  There  are  two  facts, 
and  these  two  are  the  only  realities  accessible  to  us.  The  sup¬ 
posed  power,  or  thing  in  itself,  is  behind,  and  is  absolutely  hidden. 
The  difference  between  the  ego  and  the  non-ego  “  transcends  all 
other  differences.”  A  unit  of  motion  and  a  unit  of  feeling  have 
nothing  in  common. 


1  Ibid.,  vol.  i.  p.  159. 


80  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


“  Belief  in  the  reality  of  self/’  it  is  confessed  by  Mr.  Spencer,  is 
“  a  belief  which  no  hypothesis  enables  us  to  escape.”  1  It  is  im¬ 
possible,  he  proceeds  to  argue,  that  the  impressions  and  ideas 
“  which  constitute  consciousness  ”  can  be  thought  to  be  the  only 
,  existences ;  this  is  “  really  unthinkable.”  If  there  is  an  impres¬ 
sion,  there  is  “  something  impressed.”  The  sceptic  must  hold 
that  the  ideas  and  impressions  into  which  he  has  decomposed 
consciousness  are  his  ideas  and  impressions.  Moreover,  if  he  has 
an  impression  of  his  personal  existence,  why  reject  this  impres¬ 
sion  alone  as  unreal?  The  belief  in  one’s  personal  existence,  Mr. 
Spencer  assures  us,  is  “  unavoidable  ” ;  it  is  indorsed  by  “  the 
assent  of  mankind  at  large”;  it  is  indorsed,  too,  by  the  “  suicide 
of  the  sceptical  argument  against  it.”  Yet  the  surprising  decla¬ 
ration  is  added,  that  “  reason  rejects  ”  this  belief.  Reason  rejects 
a  belief  which  it  is  impossible  to  abandon,  and  against  which  the 
adverse  reasoning  of  the  doubter  shatters  itself  in  pieces.  On 
what  ground  is  this  strange  conclusion  reached  ?  Why,  “  the 
cognition  of  self,”  it  is  asserted,  is  negatived  by  the  laws  of 
thought.  The  condition  of  thought  is  the  antithesis  of  subject 
and  object.  Hence  the  mental  act  in  which  self  is  known  implies 
“  a  perceiving  subject  and  a  perceived  object.”  If  it  is  the  true 
self  that  thinks,  what  other  self  can  it  be  that  is  thought  of?  If 
subject  and  object  are  one  and  the  same,  thought  is  annihilated. 

If  the  two  factors  of  consciousness,  the  ego  and  the  non-ego ,  are 
irreducible,  the  reality  of  self  is  the  natural  inference.  The  “  un¬ 
avoidable  ”  belief  that  self  is  a  reality  is  still  further  confirmed  by 
the  absolute  impossibility  of  thinking  without  attributing  the  act 
to  self. 

But  let  us  look  at  the  psychological  difficulty  which  moves  Mr. 
Spencer  instantly  to  lay  down  his  arms,  and  surrender  an  “  un¬ 
avoidable  ”  belief.  In  every  mental  act  there  is  an  implicit  con¬ 
sciousness  of  self,  whether  the  object  is  a  thing  external  or  a 
mental  affection.  From  this  cognition  of  self  there  is  no  escape. 
Suppose,  now,  that  self  is  the  direct  object.  To  know  is  to  dis¬ 
tinguish  an  object  from  other  things,  and  from  the  knowing  sub¬ 
ject.  When  self  is  the  object,  this  distinguishing  activity  is  exerted 
by  the  subject,  while  the  object  is  self,  distinguished  alike  from 
other  things  and"  from  the  distinguishing  subject.  The  subject 
distinguishes,  the  object  differs  in  being  distinguished  or  dis- 

1  First  Principles ,  4th  ed.,  p.  66. 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-THEISTIC  THEORIES 


8 1 


cerned.  Yet  both  subject  and  object,  notwithstanding  this  formal 
distinction,  are  known  in  consciousness  as  identical.  If,  again, 
self  as  the  subject  of  this  activity  is  made  the  object,  then  it  is  to 
one  form  of  activity,  distinguished  in  thought  from  the  agent,  that 
attention  is  directed,  while  at  the  same  time  there  is  a  conscious¬ 
ness  that  the  distinction  of  the  agent  from  the  power  or  function 
is  in  thought  merely,  not  in  reality.  That  self-consciousness  is  a 
fact,  every  one  can  convince  himself  by  looking  within.  No  psy¬ 
chological  objection,  were  it  much  more  specious  than  the  one  just 
noticed,  could  avail  against  an  experience  of  the  fact.  We  are 
fortunately  not  called  upon  by  logic  to  part  with  an  “  unavoida¬ 
ble  ”  belief.1 

To  explain  the  complex  operations  of  the  intellect  as  due  to  a 
combination  of  units  of  sensation  is  a  task  sufficiently  arduous. 
But,  when  it  comes  to  the  will  and  the  moral  feelings,  the  difficul¬ 
ties  increase.  The  illusive  idea  of  freedom,  as  was  explained  above, 
is  supposed  by  Mr.  Spencer  to  spring  from  the  supposition  that 
“  the  ego  is  something  more  than  the  aggregate  of  feelings  and 
ideas,  actual  and  nascent,  which  then  exists,”  —  exists  at  the 
moment  of  action.  The  mistake  is  made  of  thinking  that  the  ego 
is  anything  but  “  the  entire  group  of  psychical  states  which  con¬ 
stituted  the  action”  supposed  to  be  free.2  Yet  the  same  writer 
elsewhere,  and  with  truth,  asserts  that  this  idea  of  the  ego  is 
“  verbally  intelligible,  but  really  unthinkable.”  3 

Mr.  Spencer’s  system  has  been  correctly  described  by  Mansel 
as  a  union  of  the  Positivist  doctrine,  that  we  know  only  the 
.relations  of  phenomena,  with  the  Pantheist  assumption  of  the 
name  of  God  to  denote  the  Substance  or  Power  which  lies  beyond 
phenomena.4  The  doctrine,  which  is  so  essential  in  the  system, 
that  mental  phenomena  emerge  from  nervous  organism  when  it 
reaches  a  certain  point  of  development,  is  Materialistic.  Motion, 
heat,  light,  chemical  affinity,  Mr.  Spencer  holds,  are  transformable 
into  sensation,  en^otion,  thought.  He  holds  that  no  idea  or  feeling 

1  This  objection  of  Spencer  is  a  part  of  Herbart’s  system.  It  is  confuted  by 
Ulrici,  Gott  u.  der  Mensch ,  pp.  32I>  322- 

2  Principles  of  Psychology,  vol.  i.  pp.  5°°>  501, 

3  First  Principles ,  4th  ed.,  p.  66. 

4  The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned,  p.  40.  “The  truth  is  that  this  new 
philosophy  owes  its  monism  to  the  a  priori  speculations  of  Spinoza,  while  its 
agnosticism  is  borrowed  from  Hume  and  Hume’s  successors.”  Ward,  Nat¬ 
uralism  and  Agnosticism,  vol.  ii.  p.  208. 

G 


8 2  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


arises  save  as  a  result  of  some  physical  force  expended  in  produc¬ 
ing  it.  “  How  this  metamorphosis  takes  place ;  how  a  force 
existing  as  motion,  heat,  or  light,  can  become  a  mode  of  conscious¬ 
ness  ;  how  it  is  possible  for  the  forces  liberated  by  chemical 
changes  in  the  brain  to  give  rise  to  emotion,  —  these  are  mysteries 
which  it  is  impossible  to  fathom.”  1  They  are  mysteries  which 
ought  to  shake  the  writer’s  faith  in  the  assumed  fact  which  creates 
them.  If  forces  liberated  by  chemical  action  produce  thought, 
then  thought,  by  the  law  of  conservation,  must  exert  the  force 
thus  absorbed  by  it.  This  makes  thought  a  link  in  the  chain  of 
causes,  giving  to  it  an  agency  which  the  theory  denies  it  to  pos¬ 
sess.  If  chemical  action  does  not  “  give  rise  to  ”  thought,  by 
producing  it,  then  it  can  only  be  an  occasional  cause,  and  the 
efficient  cause  of  thought  is  left  untold.  This  evolution  of  mind 
from  matter  as  the  prius,  even  though  matter  be  defined  as  a  mode 
of  “  the  Unknowable,”  and  the  subjection  of  mental  phenomena 
to  material  laws,  stamp  the  system  as  essentially  Materialistic. 
“  The  strict  mechanical  necessity  of  the  physical  side  is  upheld, 
and,  as  a  consequence  the  spontaneity  and  purposiveness  of  the 
psychical  side  is  declared  to  be  illusory,  a  thing  to  be  explained 
away.” 2  The  arguments  which  confute  materialism  are  applicable 
to  it. 

Underneath  modern  discussions  on  the  grounds  of  religious 
belief  is  the  fundamental  question  as  to  the  reality  of  human 
knowledge.  The  doctrine  of  the  relativity  of  knowledge  has  been 
made  one  of  the  chief  props  of  scepticism  and  atheism.  If  the 
proposition  that  knowledge  is  relative,  simply  means  that  we  can 
know  only  through  the  organ  of  knowledge,  it  is  a  truism.  We 
can  know  nothing  of  the  universe  as  a  whole,  or  of  anything  in  it, 
beyond  what  the  knowing  agent  by  its  constitution  is  capable  of 
discerning.  The  important  question  is,  whether  things  are  known 
as  they  are,  or  whether  they  undergo  a  metamorphosis,  converting 
them  into  things  unlike  themselves,  by  being  brought  into  contact 
with  the  perceiving  and  thinking  subject.  It  is  tantamount  to  the 
question  whether  our  mental  constitution  is,  or  is  not,  an  instru¬ 
ment  for  perceiving  truth.  The  idealist  would  explain  all  the 
objects  of  knowledge  as  modifications  of  the  thinking  subject. 
Knowledge  is  thus  made  an  inward  process,  having  no  real  coun- 

1  First  Principles,  2d  ed.,  p.  217. 

2  For  the  modification  of  Spencer’s  opinion,  see  Appendix,  Note  6. 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-TPIEISTIC  THEORIES 


83 


terpart  in  a  world  without.  Nothing  is  known,  nothing  exists, 
beyond  this  internal  process.  Others,  who  stop  short  of  Idealism, 
attribute  to  the  mind  such  a  transforming  work  upon  the  objects 
furnished  it,  or  acting  upon  it  from  without,  that  their  nature  is 
veiled  from  discovery.  The  mirror  of  consciousness  is  so  made 
that  things  reflected  in  it  may,  for  aught  we  can  say,  lose  all 
resemblance  to  things  in  themselves.  That  which  is  true  of  sense- 
perception,  at  least  as  regards  the  secondary  qualities,  color, 
flavor,  etc.,  —  which  are  proximately  affections  of  man’s  physical 
organism,  —  is  assumed  to  be  true  of  all  things  and  of  their  relations. 
This  is  a  denial  of  the  reality  of  knowledge  in  the  sense  in  which 
the  terms  are  taken  by  the  common  sense  of  mankind.  The 
doctrine  was  propounded  in  the  maxim  of  the  Sophist,  Protagoras, 
that  “  man  is  the  measure  of  all  things.” 1 

Locke  made  sensation  the  ultimate  source  of  knowledge. 
Berkeley  withstood  materialism  by  making  sensations  to  be 
affections  of  the  spirit,  ideas  impressed  by  the  will  of  God,  acting 
by  uniform  rule.  Hume,  from  the  premises  of  Locke,  resolved 
our  knowledge  into  sensations,  which  combine  in  certain  orders  of 
sequence,  through  custom,  of  which  no  explanation  is  to  be  given. 
Customary  association  gives  rise  to  the  delusive  notion  of  neces¬ 
sary  ideas,  —  such  as  cause  and  effect,  substance,  power,  the  ego, 
etc.  Reid,  through  the  doctrine  of  common  sense,  rescued 
rational  intuitions  and  human  knowledge,  which  is  built  on  them, 
from  the  gulf  of  scepticism.  There  is  another  source  of  knowledge, 
a  subjective  source,  possessed  of  a  self-verifying  authority.  Kant 
performed  a  like  service  by  demonstrating  that  space  and  time, 
and  the  ideas  of  cause,  substance,  etc.,  the  concepts  or  categories  of 
the  understanding,  are  not  the  product  of  sense-perception.  They 
are  necessary  and  universal ;  not  the  product,  but  the  condition, \ 
of  sense-perception.  They  are  presupposed  in  our  perceptions 
and  judgments.  Moreover,  Kant  showed  that  there  are  ideas  of 
reason.  The  mind  is  impelled  to  unify  the  concepts  of  the  under¬ 
standing  by  which  it  conceives,  classifies,  and  connects  the  objects 
of  knowledge.  These  ideas  are  of  the  world  as  a  totality,  embrac¬ 
ing  all  phenomena,  the  ego  or  personal  subject,  and  God,  the 
unconditioned  ground  of  all  possible  existences. 

But  Kant  founded  a  scepticism  of  a  peculiar  sort.  Space,  time, 
and  the  categories,  cause,  substance,  and  the  like,  he  made  to  be 
purely  subjective,  characteristics  of  the  thinker,  and  not  of  the 

1  See  Appendix.  Note  7. 


84  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


thing.  They  reveal  to  us,  not  things  in  themselves,  but  rather 
the  hidden  mechanism  of  thought  Of  the  thing  itself,  the  object 
of  perception,  we  only  know  its  existence.  Even  this  we  cannot 
affirm  of  the  ego,  which  is  not  presented  in  sense-perception.  The 
same  exclusively  subjective  validity  belongs  to  the  other  ideas  of 
reason.  They  signify  a  tentative  effort  which  is  never  complete. 
They  designate  a  nisus  which  is  never  realized.  Since  the  con¬ 
cepts  of  the  understanding  are  rules  for  forming  and  ordering  the 
materials  furnished  in  sense-perception,  they  cannot  be  applied  to 
anything  supersensible.  The  attempt  to  do  so  lands  us  in  logical 
contradictions,  or  antinomies,  which  is  an  additional  proof  that  we 
are  guilty  of  an  illegitimate  procedure. 

From  the  consequences  of  this  organized  scepticism,  the  nat¬ 
ural  as  well  as  actual  outcome  of  which  was  the  systems  of  Pan¬ 
theistic  Idealism,  Kant  delivered  himself  by  his  doctrine  of  the 
Practical  Reason.  He  called  attention  to  another  department  of 
our  nature.  We  are  conscious  of  a  moral  law,  an  imperative  man¬ 
date,  distinguished  from  the  desires,  and  elevated  above  them. 

fThis  implies,  and  compels  us  to  acknowledge,  the  freedom  of  the 
will,  and  our  own  personality  which  is  involved  in  it.  Knowing 
that  we  are  made  for  morality,  and  also  for  happiness,  or  that  these 
are  the  ends  toward  which  the  constitution  of  our  nature  points, 
we  must  assume  that  there  is  a  God  by  whose  government  these 
,  ends  are  made  to  meet,  and  are  reconciled  in  a  future  life.  God, 
free-will,  and  immortality  are  thus  verified  to  us  on  practical 
grounds.  Religion  is  the  recognition  of  the  moral  law  as  a  divine 
command.  Religion  and  ethics  are  thus  identified.  Love,  the 
contents  of  the  law,  is  ignored,  or  retreats  into  the  background. 
Rectitude  in  its  abstract  quality,  or  as  an  imperative  mandate,  is 
the  sum  of  virtue. 

The  doctrine  of  the  relativity  of  knowledge  is  presented  by  Sir 
William  Hamilton  in  a  Torm  somewhat  different  from  the  Kantian 
theory.  The  Infinite  and  the  Absolute  —  existence  uncondition¬ 
ally  unlimited,  and  existence  unconditionally  limited  —  are  neither 
of  them  conceivable.  For  example,  we  cannot  conceive  of  infinite 
space,  or  of  space  so  small  that  it  cannot  be  divided  ;  we  cannot 
conceive  of  infinite  increase  or  infinite  division.  Positive  thought 
is  of  things  limited  or  conditioned.  The  object  is  limited  by  its 
contrast  with  other  things  and  by  its  relation  to  the  subject.  Only 
as  thus  limited  can  it  be  an  object  of  knowledge.  The  object  in 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-THEISTIC  THEORIES 


85 


sense-perception  is  a  phenomenon  of  the  non-ego ;  the  non-ego  is 
a  reality,  but  is  not  known  as  it  is  in  itself.  Thought  is  shut  up  be¬ 
tween  two  inaccessible  extremes.  But  although  each  is  incon¬ 
ceivable,  yet,  since  they  are  contradictories,  one  or  the  other  must 
be  accepted.  For  example,  space  must  be  either  infinite,  or 
bounded  by  ultimate  limits.  An  essential  point  in  Hamilton’s 
doctrine  is  the  distinction  between  conception  and  belief.  The 
two  are  not  coextensive.  That  may  be  an  object  of  belief  which 
is  not  a  concept.  This  distinction  is  elucidated  by  Mansel,  who 
says,  “  We  may  believe  that  a  thing  is,  without  being  able  to  con¬ 
ceive  how  it  is.”  “  I  believe  in  an  infinite  God;  i.e.  I  believe 
that  God  is  infinite.  I  believe  that  the  attributes  which  I  ascribe 
to  God  exist  in  him  in  an  infinite  degree.  Now,  to  believe  this 
proposition,  I  must  be  conscious  of  its  meaning ;  but  I  am  not 
therefore  conscious  of  the  infinite  God  as  an  object  of  concep¬ 
tion  ;  for  this  would  require,  further,  an  apprehension  of  the  man¬ 
ner  in  which  these  infinite  attributes  coexist  so  as  to  form  one 
object.”1  But  in  this  case  do  I  not  know  the  meaning  of  “  infi¬ 
nite”?  Does  it  not  signify  more  than  the  absence  of  imaginable 
limit,  a  mere  negation  of  power  in  me?  Does  it  not  include  the 
positive  idea,  that  there  is  no  limit?  In  the  case  of  opposite  in- 
conceivables,  extraneous  considerations,  according  to  Hamilton, 
determine  which  ought  to  be  believed.  Both  necessity  and  free¬ 
dom  are  inconceivable,  since  one  involves  an  endless  series,  the 
other  a  new  commencement;  but  moral  feeling  —  self-approba¬ 
tion,  remorse,  the  consciousness  of  obligation  —  oblige  us  to  be¬ 
lieve  in  freedom,  although  we  cannot  conceive  of  it  as  possible. 
The  fact  is  an  object  of  thought,  and  so  far  intelligible,  but  not 
the  quo  modo .  This  dilemma  in  which  we  are  placed,  where  we 
have  to  choose  between  two  contradictory  inconceivables,  does 
not  imply  that  our  reason  is  false,  but  that  it  is  weak,  or  limited 
in  its  range.  When  we  attempt  to  conceive  of  the  Infinite  and 
the  Absolute,  we  wade  beyond  our  depth.  They  are  terms  signi¬ 
fying,  not  thought,  but  the  negation  of  thought.  Our  belief  in  the 
existence  of  God  and  in  his  perfection  rests  on  the  suggestions 
and  demands  of  our  moral  nature.  In  this  general  view  Hamilton 
was  in  accord  with  Kant.  Mr,.  Mansel  differed  from  Sir  William 
Hamilton  in  holding  that  we  have  an  intuition  of  the  ego  as  an 
entity,  and  in  holding  that  the  idea  of  cause  is  a  positive  notion, 
1  The  Philosophy  of  the  Conditioned ,  pp.  1 27,  1 29;  cf.  pp.  1 8  seq. 


86  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


and  not  a  mere  inability  to  conceive  of  a  new  beginning,  or  of  an 
addition  to  the  sum  of  existence.  But  Mr.  Mansel  applied  the 
doctrine  of  relativity  to  our  knowledge  of  God,  which  was  thus 
made  to  be  only  anthropopathic,  approximative,  symbolic ;  and 
he  founded  our  belief  in  God  ultimately  on  conscience  and 
the  emotions.1 

Under  the  auspices  of  James  Mill,  and  of  his  son  John  Stuart 
Mill,  the  philosophical  speculations 'of  Hume  were  revived.  Intui¬ 
tions  are  affirmed  to  be  empirical  in  their  origin.  They  are  im¬ 
pressions,  which  through  the  medium  of  sense-perception,  and 
under  the  laws  of  association,  stamp  themselves  upon  us  in  early 
childhood,  and  thus  wear  the  semblance  of  a  priori  ideas.  But 
this  is  only  a  semblance.  There  are,  possibly,  regions  in  the  uni¬ 
verse  where  two  and  two  make  five.  Causation  is  nothing  but 
uniformity  of  sequence.  The  Positivist  theory  of  J.  S.  Mill  led 
him  to  the  conclusion  that  matter  is  only  “  the  permanent  possi¬ 
bility  of  sensations”;  but  all  these  groups  of  possibilities  which 
constitute  matter  are  states  of  the  ego.  And  Mill  was  only  pre¬ 
vented  from  concluding  that  the  mind  is  nothing  but  a  bundle  of 
sensations  by  the  intractable  facts  of  memory.  Qn  his  view  of 
mind  and  matter,  it  is  impossible  to  see  how  a  man  can  know  the 
existence  of  anybody  but  himself.  He  says  that  he  does  “  not 
believe  that  the  real  externality  to  us  of  anything  except  other 
minds  is  capable  of  proof.”  But  as  we  become  acquainted  with 
the  existence  of  other  minds  only  as  we  perceive  their  bodies, 
and  since  this  perception  must  be  held  to  be,  like  all  our  percep¬ 
tions  of  matter,  only  a  group  of  sensations,  we  have  no  proof  that 
such  bodies  exist. 

The  Agnostic  scheme  of  Herbert  Spencer  accords  with  the  the¬ 
ory  of  Hume  and  Mill  in  tracing  intuitions  to  an  empirical  source. 
But  the  experience  which  gives  them  being  is  not  that  of  the  indi¬ 
vidual,  but  of  the  race.  Heredity  furnishes  the  clew  to  the  solu¬ 
tion  of  the  problem  of  their  emergence  in  the  consciousness  of 
the  individual.  He  inherits  the  acquisitions  of  remote  ancestors. 
Then  the  notion  of  energy  is  superadded  to  the  Positivist  creed. 
With  it  comes  the  postulate  of  a  primal  Power,  of  which  we  are 
said  to  have  an  indefinite  consciousness,  or  “  the  Unknowable,” 
—  the  Pantheistic  tenet  grafted  on  Positivism.  The  doctrine  of. 
the  relativity  of  knowledge  is  taken  up  from  Hamilton  and  Man- 
1  Respecting  Matthew  Arnold’s  conception  of  God,  see  Appendix,  Note  8. 


THE  PRINCIPAL  ANTI-TH EISTIC  THEORIES 


§7 


sel  as  the  ground  of  nescience  respecting  realities  as  distinct  from 
phenomena,  and  respecting  God.  The  facts  of  conscience  which 
have  furnished  to  Kant  and  Hamilton,  and  to  deep-thinking  phi¬ 
losophers  generally  who  have  advocated  the  relativity  of  knowl¬ 
edge,  a  foundation  for  belief  in  free-will  and  for  faith  in  God, 
meet  with  no  adequate  recognition.  Little  account  is  made  of 
moral  feeling,  and  its  necessary  postulates  are  discarded  as 
fictions. 

Our  knowledge  of  God  is  knowledge  and  not  an  illusive  sem¬ 
blance  of  knowledge.  It  is  not  meant  that  our  knowledge  is 
commensurate  with  the  object  —  the  infinite  and  absolute  Being. 
The  question  of  Zophar,  “  Canst  thou  by  searching  find  out 
God?”  is  explained  by  what  immediately  follows,  “  Canst  thou 
find  out  the  Almighty  to  perfection?”  Knowledge  may  be  very 
limited,  yet  real  as  far  as  it  goes.  But  it  is  not  even  meant  that 
the  present  forms  of  our  knowledge  of  God  correspond  literally  to 
the  reality.  With  the  expansion  of  knowledge,  the  symbols  that 
now  express  it  may  be  modified,  may  even  be  superseded.  What 
is  meant,  in  opposition  to  Agnosticism,  is  that  they  are  substan¬ 
tially  true.  In  them  the  reality  is  bodied  forth  up  to  the  measure 
of  our  finite  capacity  at  this  stage  of  our  existence.  This  position  is 
at  a  world-wide  remove  from  that  sort  of  Agnosticism  —  that  spe¬ 
cies  of  phenomenalism  —  which  can  be  called  knowledge  only  by 
an  utter  perversion  of  the  ordinary  understanding  of  the  word. 

A  very  acute  critic  of  Mr.  Spencer,  speaking  of  his  use  of  the 
distinction  of  appearance  and  reality,  a  “  distinction  which  has  ever 
been  the  stronghold  of  Agnosticism,”  and  of  his  confining  strict 
knowledge  to  “  appearances  behind  which  God  remains  wholly 
and  forever  concealed  as  Inscrutable  Reality,”  writes  thus:  “We 
have  allowed  that  strict  knowing,  if  it  is  to  mean  the  resolution  of 
the  course  of  Nature  into  coexistence  and  succession,  and  these 
again  into  a  world- formula  in  terms  of  matter  and  motion,  does 
not  reveal  God  at  all,  or  mind  of  any  sort.  .  .  .  But  if  we  de¬ 
cline  to  call  anything  an  appearance,  unless  it  is  either  perceived 
or  perceptible,  why  then  should  we  attach  to  it  the  bad  sense  of 
concealing,  rather  than  the  good  sense  of  revealing?  Why  should 
appearances  not  be  reality?  How  can  reality  appear,  shine  forth, 
and  yet  remain  totally  and  forever  beyond  the  knowledge  of  those 
to  whom  it  appears?  Let  us  turn,  as  we  have  done  before,  to 


88  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

the  case  we  know  best  —  the  communication  of  one  human  mind 
with  another.  Assuming  good  faith,  we  never  regard  a  man’s  acts 
and  utterances  as  masking,  but  rather  as  manifesting  the  man.  If 
they  mask  when  it  is  his  intention  to  deceive,  surely  they  cannot 
also  mask  when  his  intentions  are  the  precise  opposite.  These 
acts  and  utterances  may  be  beyond  the  comprehension  of  men  on 
a  lower  intellectual  level,  and  with  narrower  horizons,  but  they  are 
not  the  less  real  and  true  on  that  account.  And  why  should  we 
argue  differently,  when  reflection  leads  us  to  see  in  a  universe  de¬ 
clared  to  be  1  everywhere  alive  ’  the  manifestations  of  a  Supreme 
Mind?”1 

The  rescue  of  philosophy  from  its  aberrations  must  begin  in  a 
full  and  consistent  recognition  of  the  reality  of  knowledge,  intui¬ 
tions  are  the  counterpart  of  realities.  The  categories  are  objec¬ 
tive  ;  they  are  modes  of  existence  as  well  as  modes  of  knowledge. 
Distinct  as  mind  and  nature  are,  there  is  such  an  affinity  in  the 
constitution  of  both,  and  such  an  adaptation  of  each  to  each,  that 
knowledge  is  not  a  bare  product  of  subjective  activity,  but  a  reflex 
of  reality.  Dependent  existences  imply  independent  self-existent 
Being.  The  postulate  of  all  causal  connection  discerned  among 
finite  things  is  the  First  Cause.  From  the  will  we  derive  our 
notion  of  causation.  Among  dependent  existences  the  will  is  the 
only  fountain  of  power  of  which  we  have  any  experience.  It  is 
reasonable  to  believe  that  the  First  Cause  is  a  Will.  The  First 
Cause  is  disclosed  as  personal  in  conscience,  to  which  our  wills 
are  subject.  The  law  as  an  imperative  impulse  to  free  action 
and  as  a  preappointed  end  implies  that  the  First  Cause  is  Personal. 
Order  and  design  in  the  world  without  —  not  found  there  merely, 
but  instinctively  sought  there  —  corroborate  the  evidence  of  God, 
whose  being  is  implied  in  our  self-consciousness,  and  whose  holy 
authority  is  manifest  in  conscience. 


1  Ward,  Naturalism  and  Agnosticism ,  vol.  ii.  p.  275. 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE  DIVINE  ORIGIN  OF  CHRISTIANITY  EVINCED  IN  ITS  ADAPTEDNESS 
TO  THE  DEEPEST  NECESSITIES  OF  MAN 

Every  religion  has  to  undergo  a  practical  test.  It  verifies  or 
disproves  itself  in  the  degree  in  which  it  answers  to  the  spiritual 
nature  and  wants  of  man.  Christianity  does  not  come  forward  as 
a  new  philosophy  having  for  its  primary  end  the  solving  of  specu¬ 
lative  problems.  It  professes,  to  be  sure,  to  be  in  accord  with 
reason.  It  claims  to  rest  upon  a  truly  rational  conception  of  the 
universal  system  of  which  man  is  a  component  part.  But  it  also 
founds  its  title  to  confidence  on  more  practical  grounds.  It  ap¬ 
peals  immediately  to  the  conscience  and  the  affections.  It  calls 
for  a  rectification  of  the  will.  It  promises  to  minister  to  necessi¬ 
ties  of  human  nature  which  pertain  in  common  to  men  of  the 
most  exalted  intelligence  and  to  minds  of  the  humblest  cast.  In 
its  adaptedness  to  such  deep-felt  necessities,  which  spring  out  of 
man’s  constitution  and  condition,  which  cleave  to  him  as  a  finite, 
moral,  responsible  being  who  looks  forward  to  death,  and,  with 
more  or  less  of  hope  or  of  dread,  to  a  life  hereafter  —  in  this 
adaptedness  lies  a  proof  of  its  truth  and  supernatural  parent- 
/  age.  If  Christianity  is  found  to  be  matched  to  human  nature  as 
/  no  other  system  can  pretend  to  be,  and  as  cannot  be  accounted 
t  for  by  any  wisdom  of  which  man  of  himself  is  capable,  then  we 
are  justified  in  referring  it  to  God  as  its  author.  In  the  propor¬ 
tion  in  which  this  fitness  of  Christianity  to  the  constitution,  the 
cravings,  the  distress,  of  the  soul,  to  man’s  highest  and  holiest  as¬ 
pirations,  becomes  a  matter  of  living  experience,  the  force  of  the 
argument  will  be  appreciated.  It  will  be  understood  in  the  de¬ 
gree  in  which  it  is  felt.  Here  the  data  of  the  inference  are 
drawn  from  experiences  of  the  heart.  The  impressions  which 
carry  one  to  this  conclusion  are  contingent  on  the  state  of  the 
sensibility,  the  activity  and  health  of  conscience,  and  the  bent  of 
the  will.  The  conclusion  itself  is  one  to  which  the  soul  advances 

89 


90  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


spontaneously ;  one  in  which,  rational  though  it  be,  the  affections 
and  the  will  are  the  determining  factors. 

There  is  in  the  human  spirit  a  profound  need  of  God.  This 
grows  out  of  the  fact  that  we  are  not  only  finite,  but  consciously 
finite,  and  not  sufficient  for  ourselves.  But,  whether  the  source  of 
it  is  reflected  on  or  not,  this  need  of  a  connection  with  the 
Eternal  and  Divine  is  felt.  In  reality,  the  hunger  for  God, 
whether  it  be  consciously  recognized  or  not,  is  deeper  in  the 
heart  than  any  other  want  of  human  nature;  for  example,  than 
the  instinct  that  craves  friendship,  or  that  impels  to  the  creation 
of  domestic  ties,  or  that  inspires  a  thirst  for  knowledge.  The  need 
of  God  may  be,  it  often  is,  latent,  undefined.  It  stirs  in  the  soul 
Vbelow  the  clear  light  of  consciousness.  Its  very  vagueness  has  the 
effect  to  send  man  off  in  pursuit  of  a  variety  of  finite  objects,  which 
are  sought  for  the  sake  of  filling  the  void,  the  true  significance  of 
which  is  not  yet  discerned.  Now  it  is  wealth,  now  it  is  honor  and 
fame  and  power,  now  it  is  the  acquisitions  of  science.  Or  it  may 
be  sensual  pleasure,  or  the  entertainment  afforded  by  social  inter¬ 
course,  or  any  one  of  myriad  sorts  of  diversion.  The  different 
sorts  of  earthly  good,  when  worthy  of  esteem,  are  estimated  be¬ 
yond  the  value  which  experience  finds  in  them.  When  they  are 
gained,  disappointment  ensues.  The  void  within  is  not  filled. 
If  these  remarks  are  commonplace,  their  very  triteness  demon¬ 
strates  their  truth.  In  childhood,  we  find  the  world  into  which 
life  is  opening  sufficient.  We  do  not  tire  of  its  novelty.  The 
future  stretches  before  us  with  a  seemingly  infinite  attraction. 
The  charm  of  mystery  is  spread  over  it.  The  scene  captivates  by 
its  variety.  In  the  human  beings  about  us,  in  the  spectacles  pre¬ 
sented  for  the  eye  to  gaze  on,  in  the  work  and  in  the  play  that 
await  us  at  each  day’s  dawn,  there  is  enough.  It  is  only  in  excep¬ 
tional  instances,  in  the  case  of  unusually  thoughtful  and  deep-souled 
children,  that  there  appears  a  sacred  discontent  with  the  things 
that  are  comprised  in  the  life  about  them.  When  we  emerge  out 
of  immaturity,  there  will  arise  within  us  a  sense  of  the  unsatisfacto¬ 
riness  of  existence  —  a  feeling  not  in  the  least  cynical,  not  always, 
certainly,  due  to  disappointments,  though  experiences  of  hardship 
and  bereavement,  or  of  whatever  makes  the  heart  ache,  do  cer¬ 
tainly  aggravate  the  discontent  of  the  soul.  It  may  be  that  there 
will  coexist  an  inexpressible  feeling  of  loneliness.  There  is  a 
reaching  out  for  something  larger  than  human  love  can  provide, 


ADAPTEDNESS  TO  HUMAN  NECESSITIES 


91 


and  for  something  which  human  love,  when  tasted  to  the  full, 
leaves  unsupplied.  Study,  travel,  absorption  in  pleasant  labor, 
experiments  in  quest  of  happiness  from  this  or  that  source,  much 
as  they  may  do  to  drive  away  temporarily  the  feeling  of  want,  fail 
to  pacify  it  permanently.  A  thirst,  slaked  for  the  day,  revives  on 
the  morrow.  There  is  a  cry  in  the  soul,  even  if  not  so  articulate 
as  to  be  distinctly  heard  by  the  soul  itself,  to  which  the  world 
makes  no  response.  Gifted  minds  which  of  set  purpose  shut  their 
ears  to  this  voice  within  have  their  moments  in  which  they  cannot 
avoid  hearing  it.  Goethe  is  one  of  the  most  prominent  examples 
of  the  deliberate  purpose  to  confine  the  attention  within  the  finite 
realm,  and  to  live  upon  the  delights  of  art,  literature,  science,  love. 
Whatever  could  disturb  the  repose  of  the  spirit,  the  dark  side  of 
mortal  experience,  harassing  questions  respecting  the  future,  he 
would  banish  from  thought.  Yet  this  serene  man  said  to  his 
friend  :  “  I  have  ever  been  esteemed  one  of  fortune’s  chiefest  favor¬ 
ites  ;  nor  can  I  complain  of  the  course  my  life  has  taken.  Yet, 
truly,  there  has  been  nothing  but  toil  and  care ;  and  in  my  sev¬ 
enty-fifth  year  I  may  say  that  I  have  never  had  four  weeks  of  gen¬ 
uine  pleasure.  The  stone  was  ever  to  be  rolled  up  anew.”1  Rest 
was  not  attained.  There  was  a  lurking  sense  that  the  peace  which 
came  and  went  had  no  perennial  source.  “  We  may  lean  for  a 
while,”  he  once  said,  “  on  our  brothers  and  friends,  be  amused  by 
acquaintances,  rendered  happy  by  those  we  love ;  but  in  the  end 
man  is  always  driven  back  upon  himself.  And  it  seems  as  if  the 
divinity  had  so  placed  himself  in  relation  to  man  as  not  always  to 
respond  to  his  reverence,  trust,  and  love ;  at  least  in  the  terrible 
moment  of  need  “  There  had  then  been,”  writes  Mr.  Hutton, 
in  his  thoughtful  Essay  on  Goethe,  “  there  had  then  been  a 
time  when  the  easy  familiarity  with  which  the  young  man  scruti¬ 
nized  the  universe  had  been  exchanged  for  the  humble  glance  of 
the  heart-stricken  child  ;  and  he  had  shrunk  away  from  that  time 
(as  he  did  from  every  hour  of  life  when  pain  would  have  probed 
to  the  very  bottom  the  secrets  of  his  nature),  to  take  refuge  in  the 
exercise  of  a  faculty  which  would  have  been  far  stronger  and  purer, 
had  it  never  helped  him  to  evade  those  awful  pauses  in  existence 
when  alone  the  depths  of  our  personal  life  lie  bare  before  the  in¬ 
ward  eye,  and  we  start  to  see  both  4  whither  we  are  going,  and 
whence  we  came.’  Goethe  deliberately  turned  his  back  upon 
1  Eckermann,  Conversations  of  Goethe ,  p.  76. 


92  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


those  inroads  which  sin  and  death  make  into  our  natural  habits 
and  routine.  From  the  pleading  griefs,  from  the  challenging  guilt, 
from  the  warning  shadows,  of  his  own  past  life,  he  turned  reso¬ 
lutely  away,  like  his  own  Faust,  to  the  alleviating  occupations  of 
the  present.  Inch  by  inch  he  contested  the  inroads  of  age  upon 
his  existence,  striving  to  banish  the  images  of  new  graves  from  his 
thoughts  long  before  his  nature  had  ceased  to  quiver  with  the 
shock  of  parting  ;  never  seemingly  for  a  moment  led  by  grief  to  take 
conscious  refuge  in  the  love  of  God  and  his  hopes  of  a  hereafter.”  1 

It  is  sometimes  made  a  reproach  to  Christianity  that  it  is  a 
refuge  of  the  weak,  the  disappointed,  the  desponding.  But  a 
full  proportion  of  its  disciples  have  been  won  from  the  ranks  of 
men  of  even  marked  virility.  But  the  question  is  whether  the 
realities  of  existence  are  not  best  discerned  from  the  point  of 
view  gained  by  those  who  have  experience  of  pain  —  whether  the 
mental  vision  of  such  is  not  clearer. 

Not  long  after  the  death  of  his  wife,  Thomas  Carlyle  wrote  to 
his  friend,  Erskine  of  Linlathen,  as  follows  :  — 

“‘Our  Father  which  art  in  Heaven,  hallowed  be  thy  name,  thy 
kingdom  come,  thy  will  be  done,’  —  what  else  can  we  say  ?  The  other 
night,  in  my  sleepless  tossings  about,  which  were  growing  more  and 
more  miserable,  these  words,  that  brief  and  grand  prayer,  came  strangely 
into  my  mind,  with  an  altogether  new  emphasis,  as  if  written  and  shin¬ 
ing  for  me  in  mild  pure  splendor  on  the  black  bosom  of  the  night 
there ;  when  I,  as  it  were,  read  them,  word  by  word,  with  a  sudden 
check  to  my  imperfect  wanderings,  with  a  sudden  softness  of  composure 
that  was  most  unexpected.  Not  perhaps  for  thirty  or  forty  years  had 
I  ever  formally  repeated  that  prayer ;  nay,  I  never  felt  before  how  in¬ 
tensely  the  voice  of  man’s  soul  it  is,  —  the  inmost  aspiration  of  all  that  is 
high  and  pious  in  poor  human  nature  ;  right  worthy  to  be  recommended 
with  an,  ‘After  this  manner  pray  ye.’” 

The  just  criticism  of  Goethe  brings  us  to  another  deep  feeling 
of  the  human  soul,  —  a  more  solemn  experience,  a  more  imperi¬ 
ous  need.  The  yearning  of  the  finite  soul  for  an  infinite  good 
is  not  its  most  agonizing  emotion.  The  craving  which  an  intelli¬ 
gent  creature,  however  pure,  would  feel,  —  the  craving  for  an 
object  commensurate  with  its  boundless  desires,  —  is  far  from 
comprising  the  whole  need  of  man.  A  self-accusation,  more¬ 
over,  sooner  or  later,  with  more  or  less  persistency,  haunts  the 

1  Hutton’s  Essays ,  vol.  ii.  ( Literary ),  p.  77. 


ADAPTEDNESS  TO  HUMAN  NECESSITIES 


93 


soul.  It  may  exist  only  as  an  uneasy  suspicion.  It  will  fre¬ 
quently  arise  in  connection  with  special  instances  of  wrong-doing, 
or  of  neglect  of  duty  in  relation  to  other  men.  One  finds  himself 
reproached  within  for  being  selfish  in  his  conduct.  The  con¬ 
sciousness  of  secret  purposes  which  his  moral  sense  condemns 
inspires  him  with  a  feeling  of  unworthiness  and  of  shame.  He 
falls  below  his  own  ideals ;  he  detects  in  himself  a  lack  of  courage, 
of  truth,  of  purity,  of  magnanimity,  of  loyalty  to  the  just  claims 
of  relatives,  or  of  neighbors,  or  of  society  at  large.  Epochs  are 
reached  in  the  course  of  life  when,  as  he  glances  backward  over  a 
long  period,  cherished  habits  of  feeling  rise  in  memory  to  con¬ 
demn  him.  Self-accusation  may  go  so  far  as  to  induce  self-loath¬ 
ing.  The  more  he  probes  his  own  character,  the  more  aware  does 
he  become  that  there  is  something  perverse  at  the  very  core. 
He  is  living  to  the  world,  is  making  the  good  which  the  world 
yields,  or  self-gratification  in  a  more  gross  or  more  refined  form, 
the  goal  and  end  of  his  striving.  Not  only  is  he  without  God,  he 
is  alienated  from  him ;  and  in  this  alienation,  carrying  in  it  an 
idolatry  of  the  creature  and  of  finite  good,  he  discerns  the  root  of 
the  evil  that  is  in  him.  Then  the  sense  of  guilt  attaches  itself  to 
the  impiety  or  ungodliness  out  of  which,  as  an  innermost  fountain, 
flows  a  defiled  stream  of  ethical  misconduct.  We  are  drawing 
no  fancy  picture.  The  sense  of  unworthiness  is  not  a  morbid 
experience.  It  is  not  confined  to  transient  moods ;  it  is  not 
limited  to  characters  of  exceptional  depravity ;  it  does  not  belong 
alone  to  men  of  the  spiritual  elevation  of  Pascal  and  Luther, 
of  Augustine  and  Edwards ;  it  does  not  pertain  to  one  nation 
exclusively,  or  to  any  single  branch  of  the  human  family ;  it  is 
not  an  artificial  product  of  the  teaching  of  Christianity,  or  of  any 
other  of  the  religions  that  have  prevailed  on  the  earth.  It  is  a 
human  experience,  giving,  therefore,  the  most  diversified  mani¬ 
festations  of  its  presence  in  the  confessions  of  individuals,  in 
poetry,  and  in  other  forms  of  literature,  in  penances,  sacrifices, 
and  other  rites  of  worship.  The  “  whole  world  is  guilty  before 
God,”  and  in  varying  degrees  sensible  of  the  fact,  despite  the 
obtuseness  of  conscience  which  the  practice  of  evil-doing  engen¬ 
ders,  the  natural  efforts  to  stifle  so  humiliating  and  painful  an 
emotion,  the  partially  successful  devices  to  divert  the  attention 
from  it,  and  the  sophistry  which  labors  to  make  it  seem  unreal. 1 

1  On  this  subject,  see  Appendix,  Note  9. 


94  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


Then  the  sense  of  being  without  God  is  converted  into  a  sense 
of  estrangement  from  Him.  The  feeling  of  responsibleness  for 
sin,  while  it  brings  God  more  vividly  to  mind,  awakens  the  con¬ 
sciousness  of  being  excluded  from  communion  with  Him.  The 
sense  of  condemnation  drives  one  away  from  God,  and  yet  com¬ 
pels  the  thought  of  Him.  The  soul  hides  itself  “  among  the 
trees  of  the  garden,”  yet  is  followed,  and  held,  and  mysteriously 
attracted  by  the  offended  Being  from  whom  it  has  chosen  to 
separate  itself. 

Besides  a  sense  of  unworthiness  there  is  a  consciousness  of 
bondage.  It  may  be  that  particular  habits,  which  the  will  has 
suffered  to  gain  control,  have  now  come  to  be  felt  as  a  chain. 
Sensual  appetite  in  one  form  or  another,  vanity,  ungovern¬ 
able  resentment,  covetousness,  or  some  other  base  purpose  or 
corrupt  form  of  conduct  —  may  have  established  a  mastery,  which, 
when  the  conviction  of  guilt  arises,  and  with  it  discontent,  is  felt 
as  a  galling  tyranny.  If  there  be  no  single  predominant  passion, 
the  general  principle  of  worldliness  which  has  enthroned  the  crea¬ 
ture  in  the  place  of  the  Creator  oppresses  the  soul  that  has  now 
awoke  to  a  perception  of  its  culpable  and  abnormal  state.  Strug¬ 
gles  to  break  loose  from  the  yoke  of  habit  —  which  has  become 
bound  up  with  the  laws  of  association  that  determine  the  current 
of  thought,  has  enslaved  the  affections,  and  taken  captive  the  will 
—  prove  ineffectual.  “What  I  would,  that  do  I  not ;  but  what  I 
hate,  that  do  I  ”  ;  or,  as  the  heathen  poet  expresses  it,  — 

u  Video  meliora  proboque  ; 

Deteriora  sequor.” 

Of  course  the  struggle  against  inward  evil  may  be  weak,  but  in 
strong  and  earnest  natures  it  may  amount  to  an  agony.  The 
insurrection  against  the  power  to  which  the  will  has  yielded  itself 
may  rend  the  soul  as  a  kingdom  is  torn  by  civil  strife.  The 
unaided  effort  at  self-emancipation  turns  out  to  be  fruitless.  It  is 
the  vain  struggle  of  Laocoon  in  the  coils  of  the  serpent.  It  may 
end  in  a  despairing  submission  to  the  enemy. 

But  this  description  does  not  complete  the  account  of  the  experi¬ 
ence  of  the  soul  in  its  relations  to  God,  as  long  as  it  is  yet  practi¬ 
cally  ignorant  of  the  gospel.  The  misery  of  human  life  must  be 
taken  into  consideration.  Where  there  is  youth,  health,  prosperity, 
and  the  buoyancy  of  spirits  which  is  natural  under  these  circum- 


ADAPTEDNESS  TO  HUMAN  NECESSITIES 


95 


stances,  there  is  commonly  but  a  slight  appreciation  of  the  count¬ 
less  forms  of  distress  from  which  even  the  most  favored  class  of 
mankind  do  not  escape.  It  is  possible,  to  be  sure,  to  understate 
the  amount  of  happiness  in  the  world  of  mankind.  That  there  is 
no  sunshine  in  human  life,  even  in  situations  that  are  adverse, 
only  a  cynic  would  be  disposed  to  deny.  But  he  is  equally  blind 
to  facts  who  fails  to  recognize  that  the  earthly  life  of  men  is  a 
scene  which  abounds  in  trouble,  in  pain  of  body  and  anguish  of 
spirit,  in  hearts  lacerated  by  fellow-beings  who  have  been  loved  and 
trusted,  made  sore  by  bereavement,  anxious  with  numberless  cares, 
often  weary  or  half-weary  with  the  burden  of  toil  and  the  bitter¬ 
ness  of  grief.  Then  there  approaches  every  household  and  every 
individual  the  dark  shadow  of  death.  The  love  of  life  is  an  instinct 
so  strong  that  only  in  exceptional  cases  is  it  fully  overborne  by 
the  pressure  of  despondency.  Yet  death  stands  waiting.  More 
than  half  of  the  race  expire  in  infancy.  Before  every  individual 
is  the  prospect  of  this  inevitable  event,  which  he  endeavors  to 
avert  and  to  postpone  as  long  as  possible,  all  the  while,  however, 
aware  that  his  painstaking  will  at  length  be  fruitless.  The  feelings 
sketched  above  are  not  peculiar  to  any  single  generation.  They 
are  not  the  result,  as  they  are  sometimes  said  to  be,  of  a  gloom 
engendered  by  Christian  teaching.  He  who  imagines  that  life  of 
old  was  nothing  but  sunshine,  has  forgotten  his  Homer  and  a  thou¬ 
sand  pathetic  laments  strewn  through  the  noblest  literature  of 
antiquity. 

None  but  the  superstitious  consider  that  pain  and  affliction  are 
distributed  in  strict  proportion  to  transgression,  and  that  the  hap¬ 
piest  lot  falls  uniformly  to  the  least  unworthy.  But,  while  this 
notion  is  abandoned  as  a  falsehood  of  superstition,  we  may  recog¬ 
nize  in  it  the  distortion  of  a  truth  which  is  embedded  in  the  con¬ 
victions  of  mankind,  —  the  truth  that  natural  evil  and  moral  evil 
are  connected  in  the  system  of  things  ;  that  one  is  the  concomitant 
and  shadow  of  the  other ;  that  suffering,  to  a  large  extent,  to 
say  the  least,  is  a  part  of  a  retributive  order.  Certain  it  is,  that 
pain  and  sorrow  tend  to  provoke  self-judgment  and  that  feeling  of 
ill-desert  which  is  inseparable  from  conscious  impiety  and  self¬ 
ishness.  The  presage  of  judgment  arises  spontaneously  in  the 
soul.  Especially  the  prospect  of  death  is  apt  to  excite  remorseful 
apprehension.  The  vivid  presentiment  of  retribution  to  come,  or 
an  undefined  dread  of  this  nature,  springs  up  unbidden  in  the 


9 6  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


mind,  in  the  presence  of  that  solemn  crisis  which  breaks  up  our 
present  form  of  being,  and  sends  the  spirit  out  of  its  fleshly  tene¬ 
ment  into  the  world  beyond.  To  a  mind  haunted  by  reproaches 
of  conscience,  death  itself  wears  a  penal  aspect ;  it  is  felt  to  be 
something  incongruous,  a  violent  rupture  of  a  bond,  which,  if  dis¬ 
solved  at  all,  we  might  look  to  see  loosened  by  a  gentler  process, 
by  a  transition  not  attended  with  the  pangs  of  dissolution. 

When  the  moral  and  spiritual  perceptions  have  thus  been 
quickened,  the  mind  is  struck  with  the  fact  that  Christianity,  as  set 
forth  in  the  Scriptures,  recognizes  to  the  full  extent  all  the  facts 
which  it  has  been  aroused  to  discern.  Not  only  are  they  admitted 
in  the  Scriptures,  and  spread  out  with  no  attempt  to  disguise 
them  :  they  are  insisted  on,  and  are  set  forth  with  a  startling  im¬ 
pressiveness.  An  individual  thus  awakened  to  the  realities  of  exist¬ 
ence  finds  depicted  there  man’s  need  of  God,  —  his  thirst  for 
God,  —  and  the  futility  of  seeking  to  slake  the  thirst  of  the  soul  for 
the  Infinite  from  any  earthly  fountains  of  pleasure.  “  Why  do  ye 
spend  money  for  that  which  is  not  bread  ?  ”  What  is  unworthy  in 
human  character  and  conduct  he  finds  proclaimed  there  with  a 
piercing  emphasis.  There  is  no  extenuation  of  human  guilt, 
whether  as  connected  with  immorality  or  with  ungodliness.  Every 
disguise  is  stripped  off.  The  actual  condition  of  men,  as  regards 
the  sufferings  to  which  all  are  exposed,  and  those  from  which  none 
escape,  is  very  often  referred  to  and  is  everywhere  latently  assumed. 
Death  is  held  up  to  view  as  the  goal  which  all  are  approaching.  The 
real  source  of  the  “  sting  of  death  ”  is  brought  out.  The  forebod¬ 
ing  of  conscience,  the  product  of  the  sense  of  ill  desert,  is  dis¬ 
tinctly  sanctioned  in  a  solemn  affirmation  of  coming  judgment.  In 
short,  the  malady  of  the  soul,  in  all  its  characteristic  features,  is  laid 
bare  in  a  way  to  evoke  and  intensify  the  spiritual  needs  and  fears 
which  have  been  adverted  to.  This  outspokenness  of  the  Bible, 
this  unmasking  of  the  evil  and  of  the  danger,  invites  confidence. 
The  diagnosis  is  unsparing.  It  suggests  at  least  the  hope  that 
where  the  disorder  is  so  fully  understood,  an  adequate  remedy 
will  not  be  wanting. 

The  need  of  the  soul  is  Reconciliation.  This  is  the  first  want 
of  which  it  is  conscious.  ’  Tff  needs  to  be  brought  near  to  God, 
and  into  personal  communion  with  Him,  through  Forgiveness.  It 
needs,  moreover,  help  from  without,  that  it  may  subdue  the  prin¬ 
ciple  of  sin  and  attain  the  freedom  of  a  willing  loyalty.  It  needs 


ADAPTEDNESS  TO  HUMAN  NECESSITIES 


97 


deliverance  from  death,  as  far  as  death  is  an  object  of  dread  either 
in  itself  or  for  what  is  feared  in  connection  with  it. 

How  can  one  who  is  in  this  mood  fail  to  be  deeply  impressed  at 
the  outset  by  the  circumstance,  that,  while  the  Scriptures  assert 
without  palliation  the  guilt  of  sin  and  the  righteous  displeasure  of 
God  on  account  of  it,  they  at  the  same  time  announce,  not  an 
inevitable  perdition,  but  a  complete  rescue?  There  is  a  procla¬ 
mation  of  “good  tidings.”  First,  there  is  the  momentous  an¬ 
nouncement  of  a  merciful  Approach  made  by  God  to  the  race 
of  mankind.  This  simple  declaration,  apart  from  methods  and 
details,  will  excite  a  profound  interest.  The  initiative  in  the  work 
of  deliverance  has  been  taken  by  Him  from  whom  alone  forgive¬ 
ness  and  deliverance  can  proceed.  Then  comes  the  explicit  an¬ 
nouncement  of  a  mission  of  a  Saviour.  There  is  a  manifestation 
of  God  to  men  through  a  man ;  a  man,  yet  in  such  an  intimacy 
of  union  to  God,  that  his  most  fit  designation  is  “  the  Son  of  God,” 
—  a  union  such  that  no  one  knows  the  Father  but  the  Son,  and 
whoever  has  seen  him  may  be  said  to  have  seen  the  Father, —  a 
union  the  mysterious  springs  of  which  precede  his  life  among 
men.  He  brings  a  proclamation  of  the  pardon  of  sin.  The 
fatherliness  of  God,  never  absolutely  withdrawn  by  Him  who  is 
“  kind  to  the  evil  and  the  unthankful,”  is  brought  into  the  fore¬ 
ground.  Ill-desert  is  to  be  no  barrier  to  the  coming  back  of  the 
estranged  to  the  Father’s  house  and  heart.  Death  need  no  longer 
be  an  object  of  dismal  foreboding.  It  is  converted  into  a  door¬ 
way  to  an  immortal  life  hereafter.  All  this  is  said  by  the  divine 
Messenger.  But  the  redemption  thus  declared  is  represented  as 
achieved  by  him.  A  man  among  men,  born  of  woman,  subject 
like  ourselves  to  temptation,  absolutely  identifying  himself  with 
his  race  in  sympathy,  not  less  than  with  the  condemnation  felt  by 
God  for  the  sin  of  mankind,  he  makes  a  free,  absolute  surrender 
of  his  own  will  to  the  Father’s  will,  with  every  new  access  of  trial 
raises  this  surrender  to  a  higher  pitch,  carries  human  nature  vic¬ 
toriously  through  life,  and  through  the  anguish  of  an  undeserved 
death,  — the  final  test  of  loyalty  to  God  and  of  devotion  to  men, 
willingly  endured  because  it  is  a  cup  given  him  of  the  Father 
to  drink.  In  that  death  is  the  life  of  the  world.  Here  is  the 
response  of  Christianity  to  the  call  of  the  conscience  and  heart 
for  an  Atonement  for  sin.  Through  death  the  Saviour  rises  to  a 
consummated  life,  invisible,  —  to  the  vantage-ground  whence  to  ex- 


H 


98  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

tend  his  life-giving  power  to  draw  men  to  himself  and  to  make 
them  partakers  of  his  own  perfection,  to  begin  now  and  to  be  fully 
realized  hereafter. 

Jesus  came  to  plant  within  the  soul  a  life  of  filial  union  to  God. 
In  the  assured  confidence  and  peace  of  that  life  there  would  be  a 
conscious  superiority  to  the  world,  an  independence  of  the  changes 
and  chances  of  this  mortal  state.  In  that  life  of  heavenly  trust, 
fears  and  anxieties  of  an  earthly  nature  would  lose  their  power  to 
break  the  calm  of  the  spirit.  There  would  inhere  in  it  a  power  to 
overcome  the  world.  Resentful  passions  would  die  out  in  the  rec¬ 
ollection  of  the  heavenly  Father’s  patience  and  forgiving  love,  and 
in  the  sense  of  the  inestimable  worth  and  the  possibility  of  perfec¬ 
tion  that  belong  to  every  soul,  however  unworthy.  A  secret  life, 
serene  in  the  midst  of  sorrow  and  danger,  a  perennial  fountain  of 
rest,  and  stimulus  to  kindly  and  beneficent  exertion,  —  such  was 
the  gift  of  Christ  to  men.  “  My  peace  I  give  unto  you.”  This 
life  he  first  realized  in  himself.  He  maintained  and  perfected  it 
through  conflict.  He  imparts  it  through  the  channel  of  personal 
union  and  fellowship.1  Christian  serenity  leaves  room  for  the  full 
flow  and  warmth  of  all  human  sympathies  and  affections.  The 
follower  of  Christ  is  empowered  to  use  the  world  without  abusing 
it,  or  being  enslaved  to  it.  He  is  not  obliged  to  fling  away  the 
good  gifts  of  God ;  but,  by  making  them  servants  instead  of  mas¬ 
ters,  he  can  enjoy,  and  yet  can  forego,  that  which  he  possesses. 
He  carries  within  him  a  treasure  sufficient  when  all  else  is  lost. 

How  shall  this  adaptedness  in  Christianity  to  man’s  spiritual 
being  be  accounted  for?  Can  it  be  attributed  to  the  Nazarene 
and  to  the  group  of  fishermen  who  followed  him,  they  being 
credited  with  no  more  than  a  merely  human  insight  ?  Is 
there  not  reason  to  conclude  that  a  higher  than  human  agency, 
even  a  divine  wisdom  and  will,  was  active  in  this  great  movement  ? 
Leaving  out  of  view  other  kinds  of  proof,  as  that  from  testimony 
to  miracles,  the  practical  argument  for  the  supernatural  origin  of 
Christianity,  from  its  proving  itself  the  counterpart  of  human  need 
and  the  satisfaction  of  the  soul’s  highest  aspirations,  is  one  difficult 
to  controvert.  It  is  of  a  piece  with  the  response  of  the  man 
born  blind,  who  replied  to  the  objections  of  the  Pharisees, 
“  Whether  he  be  a  sinner  or  no,  I  know  not :  one  thing  I  know, 
that,  whereas  I  was  blind,  now  I  see.”  2 

1  As  set  forth  in  that  classic,  The  Imitation  of  Christ. 


2  John  ix.  25. 


CHAPTER  V 


THE  DIVINE  MISSION  OF  JESUS  ATTESTED  BY  THE  TRANSFORMING 
AGENCY  OF  CHRISTIANITY  IN  HUMAN  SOCIETY 

In  the  preceding  chapter  we  have  touched  on  the  adaptedness 
of  Christianity  to  minister  to  the  needs  and  yearnings  of  the  in¬ 
dividual.  We  have  now  to  glance  at  the  power  and  beneficence 
of  Christianity  as  evinced  in  the  broader  field  of  history. 

Not  the  supernatural  origin  of  a  religion,  nor  even  its  truth,  can 
be  decided  by  the  number  of  its  adherents  :  else  Buddhism,  with 
its  four  hundred  and  fifty  millions,  would  hold  the  vantage-ground 
over  against  Christianity  with  its  four  hundred  millions  ;  and  Mo¬ 
hammedanism,  with  its  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  millions, 
might  put  in  a  plausible  claim  to  a  higher  than  human  derivation. 
It  is  necessary  to  consider  in  what  way  the  converts  of  a  religion 
have  been  won.  Mohammedanism  was  a  fanatical  crusade  against 
idolatry,  that  achieved  its  success  by  the  sword  and  by  the  fierce 
energy  with  which  it  was  wielded.  Force  was  exerted,  to  some 
extent,  for  the  spread  of  Christianity  by  the  successors  of  Constan¬ 
tine  ;  and  force  has  been  exerted  in  other  instances,  like  that  of 
the  conquest  of  the  Saxons  by  Charlemagne :  yet  there  is  no 
doubt  that  coercion  —  which,  it  may  be  observed,  was  used  in  the 
cause  of  Buddhism  by  the  kings  who  embraced  it — has,  on  the 
whole,  hindered,  instead  of  helped  on,  the  progress  of  the  gospel. 
The  victory  of  the  religion  of  the  cross  in  the  Roman  Empire 
was  really  gained  by  moral  means.  The  reactionary  movement 
jifLJulian  proved  futile,  for  the  reason  that  the  faith  which  it  at¬ 
tempted  to  succor  was  in  a  moribund  state.  When  we  consider  the 
small  beginnings  of  Christianity,  in  its  Galilean  birthplace,  and 
watch  its  progress  against  the  organized  and  violent  opposition  of 
Judaism,  and  the  successive  attempts  to  extirpate  it  made  by  im¬ 
perial  Rome,  from  the  cruelties  of  Nero  and  Domitian  to  the  sys¬ 
tematic  persecution  by  Diocletian,  its  triumph  over  the  ancient 
heathenism  excites  a  wonder  that  is  not  lessened  by  theories  which 


99 


100  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


have  been  invented  to  explain  it.  All  the  proximate  causes  of 
the  downfall  and  disappearance  of  the  Graeco-Roman  religion, 
through  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  presuppose  behind  them,  as 
the  ultimate  cause,  the  personal  influence  of  Jesus  Christ  and  his 
life  and  death.  When  we  see  the  same  gospel,  amid  the  ruins  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  subduing  to  itself  the  victorious  barbarian 
tribes  by  whom  it  was  overthrown,  we  get  a  new  impression  of 
the  mysterious  efficacy  that  resides  in  it.  An  Asiatic  religion  in 
its  origin,  it  became  the  religion  of  Europe.  Yet  its  adaptedness 
to  races  beyond  the  limits  of  the  Aryan  peoples  has  likewise  been 
fully  demonstrated. 

But  in  order  to  complete  the  argument  for  the  truth  and  divine 
origin  of  Christianity,  drawn  from  its  effect,  we  must  go  farther, 
and  investigate  the  particular  character  of  that  effect.  The  impres¬ 
sion  which  the  spread  of  the  other  religions  —  whether  the  national 
faiths,  like  the  native  religions  of  China,  or  the  universal  systems, 
Mohammedanism  and  Buddhism  —  might  leave  upon  us  is  largely 
neutralized  when  we  mark  the  character  and  limit  of  the  influence 
exerted  by  them  on  human  nature,  culture,  and  civilization.  We 
may,  to  be  sure,  recognize  enough  of  good  to  prove  that  those 
religions  inculcated  important  truths.  We  may  discern  a  value 
in  the  moral  and  religious  sentiments  which  they  partially  express 
and  respond  to.  But  the  idea  that  any  of  those  religions  is  the 
absolute  religion,  or  the  religion  revealed  from  Heaven  to  be 
the  perpetual  light  of  men,  is  dispelled  the  moment  we  find  that 
the  work  wrought  by  them  upon  the  human  soul  is_one-sided  andL 
defective,  and  that  their  final  result  is  an  arrested  development. 
The  individual  is  impelled  forward  to  a  certain  limit.  There  he 
halts.  Even  deterioration  may  ensue.  The  nation  feels  a  trans¬ 
forming  agency  for  a  time,  but  at  length  it  reaches  an  impassable 
barrier.  An  imperfect  civilization  becomes  petrified.  Christian¬ 
ity,  on  the  contrary,  never  appears  to  have  exhausted  its  power. 
It  moves  in  advance,  and  beckons  forward  the  individual  and  the 
people  who  embrace  it.  When  it  is  misconceived  in  some  respect, 
and  a  partly  perverted  development  ensues,  it  frequently  develops 
a  rectifying  power.  It  forever  instigates  to  reform  :  its  only  goal 
is  perfection. 

We  are  not  to  forget  that  gradualness  in  the  transforming 
effect  of  the  Gospel  is  the  character  attributed  by  Jesus  himself 
to  its  progress  and  influence  in  the  world.  It  was  to  be  first  the 


POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  TRANSFORM  SOCIETY  IOI 


blade,  then  the  ear,  then  the  full  corn  in  the  ear.1  It  was  to  grow 
as  the  seed  of  the  mustard  plant.2  It  was  to  operate  in  the  heart 
of  society,  on  its  institutions,  habits,  and  sentiments,  like  the  yeast 
hidden  in  the  “measures  of  meal.”3 

Moreover,  the  consequence  of  this  nature  of  the  gospel  —  of 
what  seems  a  slow  conquest  and  spread,  of  the  imperfect  discern¬ 
ment  of  its  meaning,  and  the  moral  defects  of  its  disciples  —  was 
foreseen  and  predicted.4  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  their  sins  as 
individuals,  and  especially  crimes  committed,  even  such  as  cruel 
persecution  of  fellow-Christians,  are  chargeable  not  to  real  Christi¬ 
anity,  but  to  misconceptions  of  it. 

We  are  not  to  forget,  of  course,  that  Christendom  is  something 
besides  a  religion.  It  is  composed  of  particular  races  —  races  hav¬ 
ing  distinctive  traits  which  have  entered  as  one  factor  into  the 
spiritual  life  and  the  civilization  of  this  society  of  peoples.  They 
have  inherited  from  the  past,  especially  from  the  Roman  Empire 
and  the  cultivated  nations  of  antiquity,  invaluable  elements  of  polity 
and  culture.  The  Teutonic  peoples  were  specially  hospitable  to  the 
religion  of  the  gospel.  They  were  docile,  as  well  as  virile.  They 
had  these  native  traits  to  begin  with  :  they  received  much,  besides 
the  gift  of  Christian  faith,  from  those  whom  they  conquered.  Yet  it 
is  Christianity  which  leavened  all.  It  is  Christianity  which  fused, 
moulded,  trained,  the  European  nations.  It  is  in  the  light  of  1 
Christianity  that  their  vigorous  life  unfolded  itself.  In  that  light 
it  still  flourishes. 

Jesus  Christ  brought  into  the  world  a  iqew  ideal  of  man — -man 
individual  and  man  social..  This  was  not  all.  Had  this  been  all, 
the  condition  of  men  might  not  have  been  materially  altered.  He 
brought  in  at  the  same  time  a  force  adequate  to  effect  —  though 
not  magically,  but  by  slow  degrees  —  the  realization  of  this  ideal. 

It  is  in  its  double  character  —  in  the  perfection  of  the  moral  ideal, 
and  in  the  wonderful  stimulus  to  the  practical  realization  of  it  — 
that  the  transcendent  superiority  of  the  Christian  religion  is  mani¬ 
fest.  The  sages  of  antiquity  presented  high  though  always  imper¬ 
fect  conceptions  of  what  man  and  society  should  be  ;  but  those 
conceptions  remained  inoperative.  They  did  not  avail  for  the 
elevation  of  many  individuals  even.  Their  effect  on  social  and 
political  life  was  small.  Culture  was  attained  by  the  intellectual 
and  versatile  Greek,  but  the  ideal  of  manhood  was  faulty.  Truth- 
1  Mark  iv.  28.  2  Matt.  xiii.  32.  3  Ibid.,  33.  4  Ibid.,  34  seq. 


102  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


fulness,  “  the  gold  of  character,”  was  not  one  of  his  characteristic 
virtues.  There  was  no  life-giving  force  to  save  the  Greek  from 
degeneracy  and  corruption.  No  more  was  there  a  saving  power 
in  the  law  and  polity  which  Rome  created.  Neither  Greek  learn¬ 
ing  and  philosophy,  nor  Roman  politics  and  jurisprudence,  could 
rescue  mankind  from  degradation,  or  even  keep  up  what  power 
they  had  exerted. 

With  Christ  there  came  in  a  nobler  ideal  and  a  force  to  lift  men 
up  to  it.  That  force  resided  in  Jesus  himself.  The  central  thought 
of  Jesus  was  religion  —  man’s  relation  to  God.  Take  out  this  idea 
of  man’s  true  life  as  consisting  in  that  filial  relation  to  the  heavenly 
Father,  and  the  vital  principle  is  lost  from  the  system  of  Jesus. 
The  sources  of  its  power  are  dried  up  :  the  root  is  dead,  and  the 
branches  wither  away. 

For  with  this  idea  is  inseparably  connected  his  estimate  of  the 
worth  of  the  soul.  Every  individual,  according  to  the  teaching  of 
Christ.has  an  incalculable  worth.  This  does  not  depend  on  his 
outward  condition.  Lazarus,  the  beggar  at  the  gate,  was  on  a 
footing  of  equality  with  Dives  at  his  luxurious  table.  To  the  sur¬ 
prise  of  the  disciples,  Jesus  conversed  with  a  peasant  woman  at 
a  well.  What  was  a  woman,  and  a  poor  woman,  even  a  depraved 
woman,  that  the  Master  should  waste  time  in  order  to  enlighten 
her  ?  Little  children  he  took  in  his  arms  when  the  disciples  “  for¬ 
bade  them.”  It  was  not  the  will  of  the  Father  that  one  of  these 
little  ones  should  perish.  The  transgressor  of  human  and  divine 
law,  the  male  or  female  outcast  —  he  saw  in  each  something  of 
imperishable  value.  With  this  idea  of  the  worth  of  man,  there  is  ' 
associated  the  recognition  of  every  individual  as  an  end  in  himself. 
No  man  is  made  merely  to  enhance  the  interests,  or  minister  to 
the  gratification,  of  another  man.  “  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor 
as  thyself .”  He  is  the  greatest  who  has  most  of  the  spirit  of 
self-sacrifice.  For  one  man  to  use  another  man  or  a  woman  as  an 
instrument  of  his  own  pleasure  or  advancement,  is  an  act  of  incon¬ 
ceivable  cruelty  and  "baseness.  The  equality  of  men  as  regards  • 
worth  or  value,  be  their  talents,  property,  station,  power,  or  con¬ 
dition  in  any  particular  what  they  may,  is  a  cardinal  truth.  It  is 
a  deduction  from  their  common  relation,  as  creatures  and  children, 
to  God,  and  from  the  common  benefit  of  redemption,  in  which  all 
alike  share.  In  the  community  of  God’s  children  there  was  no 
distinction  of  bondman  or  freeman,  rich  or  poor,  male  or  female, 


POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  TRANSFORM  SOCIETY  103 


Greek  or  barbarian.  All  —  be  their  nationality  that  of  the  strong 
and  intellectual  branches  of  mankind,  or  of  those  little  esteemed ; 
be  their  lot  among  the  prosperous  or  the  unfortunate  —  are  on  a 
level.  They  are  “  brethren.” 

The  Christian  ideal  embraced  the  sanctification  of  the  entire  life. 
It  did  not  subvert  established  relations  between  man  and  man,  as 
far  as  they  were  conformed  to  nature  and  right.  It  infused  into 
them  a  new  spirit.  It  set  to  work  not  to  pull  down,  but  to  purify, 
the  family  and  the  state,  and  to  raise  each  of  these  institutions  to 
the  ideal  standard.  Each  was  to  be  led  to  fulfil  its  true  function, 
and  to  become  a  fountain  of  the  highest  possible  beneficence. 

One  of  the  great  changes  which  Christianity  made,  and  is  mak¬ 
ing,  irpjite- -family,  is  the  abolition  of  domestic  tyranny.  The 
authority  of  the  father  in  ancient  Rome,  as  in  many  other  nations, 
was  withontHirnit.  As  far  as  restraints  of  law  were  concerned,  he 
was  a  despot  in  the  household.  He  had  over  its  members  the 
right  to  inflict  death.  From  the  time  of  the  introduction  of  Chris¬ 
tianity,  the  authority  of  the  father  began  to  be  reduced.  In  the 
second  century  the  paternal  prerogative,  the  patria  protestas , 
was  curtailed  in  the  Roman  law.  The  Stoic  ethical  teaching 
contributed  to  this  result,  as  to  other  humane  reforms.  How  far 
milder  sentiments  that  were  shared  by  the  Stoics  in  the  early 
Christian  centuries  were  unconsciously  imbibed  from  the  gospel, 
which  was  already  active  in  modifying  the  atmosphere  of  thought 
and  feeling,  is  a  question  difficult  to  settle.  This  is  certain,  that 
Christian  teaching  from  the  beginning  tended  strongly  to  such  a 
result,  and  evidently,  at  a  later  date,  had  a  powerful  effect.  The 
more  Christianity  gained  influence,  the  position  of  the  wife  in  rela¬ 
tion  to  the  husband’s  will  and  control  was  wholly  changed  for  the 
better.  The  freedom  of  divorce  which  existed  by  Roman  law  and 
custom  met  in  the  precepts  of  Christ  and  in  the  teaching  of  the 
Church  a  stern  rebuke.  The  wife  could  no  longer  be  discarded  in 
obedience  to  the  husband’s  caprice.  Marriage  became  a  sacred 
bond  —  a  bond,  except  for  one  cause,  indissoluble.  Of  the  im¬ 
measurable  influence  which  the  religion  of  Jesus  has  exerted  in 
shielding  the  purity  of  woman,  it  is  needless  to  speak.  The  power 
which  the  unsparing  injunctions  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  have 
exercised  for  the  defence  of  the  helpless  and  innocent  against  law¬ 
less  passion,  it  would  be  impossible  to  estimate.  As  fast  as  Chris¬ 
tianity  spread,  respect  for  the  rights  of  woman  extended.  The 


/ 


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1 


1 


104  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


more  deeply  Christianity  leavens  society,  the  more  does  all  unjust 
discrimination  in  laws  and  social  customs,  by  which  their  rights  and 
privileges  have  been  abridged,  disappear.  The  words  of  Jesus  on 
the  cross,  when  he  committed  his  mother  to  the  care  of  John, 
have  inspired  in  all  subsequent  ages  a  tender  feeling  for  the 
sorrows  of  woman.  If  reverence  for  the  Virgin  was  at  length 
exaggerated,  and  became  a  hurtful  superstition,  that  unauthorized 
worship  was  connected  with  a  sentiment  toward  the  wife  and 
mother  which  genuine  Christianity  fosters. 

The  State  is  the  second  great  institution  having  a  divine  sanction, 
and  springing  out  of  essential  tendencies  and  needs  of  human 
nature.  It  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  features  of  Christianity, 
and  one  of  the  marked  signs  that  a  wisdom  higher  than  that  of 
man  was  concerned  in  it,  that  from  the  first  it  asserted  the  inviola¬ 
ble  authority  of  the  civil  magistracy.  There  was  all  the  temptation 
that  religious  zeal  could  afford,  to  cast  off  the  rule  of  the  State. 
This  temptation  was  aggravated  a  thousand-fold  by  the  circum¬ 
stance  that  against  the  early  Christians  the  civil  powers  arrayed 
themselves  in  mortal  antipathy.  Yet  from  the  beginning  the 
injunction  was  to  honor  the  ruler.  Nay,  he  was  declared  to  be  the 
|  minister  of  God  for  the  execution  of  justice.  Civil  government  j 
was  affirmed  to  be  a  part  and  instrument  of  God’s  moral  govern¬ 
ment  of  mankind.  Christians  were  to  pray  for  the  ruler  at  the 
very  time  when  Nero  was  burning  them  alive.  No  priestly  usur¬ 
pation  in  later  periods,  when  it  was  carried  to  its  height,  was  ever 
able  to  extirpate  in  the  Christian  mind  the  feeling  of  obligation 
to  obey  the  magistrate,  and  the  conviction  that  the  powers  that  be 
are  ordained  of  God.  Christianity  exalted  justice,  and  revered  the 
State  as  its  divinely  appointed  upholder  between  man  and  man. 
Christianity  honored  rightful  authority,  and  recognized  it  as  com¬ 
mitted  to  the  rulers  of  a  political  community. 

At  the  same  time,  the  religion  of  Christ  brought  .in  liberty. 
Wherever  it  has  been  understood  aright,  it  has  been  the  most 
powerful  champion  and  safeguard  of  natural  and  political  rights. 
In  heathen  antiquity  the  State  was  supreme,  and  practically  om¬ 
nipotent.  The  individual  was  absorbed  in  the  political  body  of 
which  he  was  a  member.  To  that  body  he  owed  unlimited  alle¬ 
giance.  There  was  no  higher  law  than  the  behest  of  the  State. 
Socrates  is  one  instance  of  an  individual  refusing,  out  of  deference 
to  the  Divine  Will,  to  obey  a  prohibition  of  the  State.  He  would 


POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  TRANSFORM  SOCIETY  105 


not  promise  to  refrain  from  teaching  when  he  might  have  saved  his 
life  by  doing  so.  We  meet  here  and  there  with  a  shining  example 
of  one  who  was  ready  to  disregard  a  civil  mandate  which  required 
of  him  some  flagrant  act  of  injustice.  But  these  are  exceptions 
that  prove  the  rule.  They  are  anticipations  of  a  better  era  than 
existed,  or  could  exist,  as  long  as  polytheism  was  dominant,  and 
while  there  was  no  broader  form  of  social  unity  than  the  civil  com¬ 
munity.  Christianity  founded  a  new  kingdom.  It  was  a  kingdom 
not  of  this  world ;  but  it  was  a  real  sovereignty,  which  was  felt  to 
be  supreme  over  all  human  enactments.  The  first  preachers  of 
the  gospel  felt  obliged  to  obey  God  rather  than  man.  The  early 
Christians  had  to  disobey  the  laws  and  decrees  of  the  Jewish  and 
the  Roman  authorities.  It  was  a  new  thing  when  prisoners  who 
were  brought  before  Roman  prefects,  and  commanded  to  worship 
the  image  of  the  emperor  or  to  curse  Christ,  refused,  and  persist¬ 
ently  refused,  to  do  so.  Such  contumacy,  such  insubordination, 
struck  these  administrators  of  law  as  a  marvel  of  audacity  and  of 
treasonable  hostility  to  the  supreme  authority.  By  this  means, 
through  that  higher  allegiance  to  the  revealed  will  of  God,  which 
Christianity  made  a  widespread,  practical  fact,  the  power  of  the 
State,  up  to  that  time  virtually  boundless,  was  cut  down  to  reason¬ 
able  proportions.  The  precepts  of  the  State  were  subjected  to  the 
private  judgment  of  the  subject.  The  individual  decided  whether 
or  not  they  were  consistent  with  the  laws  of  the  King  of  kings. 
He  inquired  whether  they  enjoined  what  God  had  forbidden,  or 
forbade  what  God  had  enjoined.  The  eternal  laws  of  justice  and 
right,  of  which  Sophocles  wrote  in  the  highest  strain  of  Greek 
religious  thought,  became,  in  the  Christian  Church,  the  everyday, 
absolute  arbiter  of  conduct.  There  might  spring  up  a  new  despot¬ 
ism.  There  might  grow  up  an  ecclesiastical  authority  not  less 
tyrannical  than  the  State  had  been.  But  this  could  only  be  a  tem¬ 
porary  abuse  and  perversion.  Christian  truth  could  not  be  perma¬ 
nently  eclipsed.  Meantime,  even  in  the  days  when  ecclesiastical 
control  over  the  individual  was  overgrown,  it  still  afforded  a  most 
wholesome  check  to  the  unrestrained  power  of  chieftains  and  kings. 
The  Papacy,  in  the  periods  when  it  mistakenly  strove  to  govern  the 
laity  with  a  supreme  sway,  and  even  to  build  up  a  universal  mon¬ 
archy  of  its  own,  a  spiritual  despotism,  did,  nevertheless,  do  a  vast 
service  in  its  unceasing  assertion  of  a  spiritual  law  above  the  will 
of  any  man,  however  strong,  and  of  the  right  of  spiritual  ideas  to 


10 6  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


prevail  over  brute  force.  Guizot,  speaking  of  the  period  which  en¬ 
sued  upon  the  fall  of  the  Western  Empire,  says,  “  Had  the  Christian 
Church  not  existed,  the  whole  world  must  have  been  abandoned 
to  purely  material  force.”  1  When  Christianity  had  liberated  the 
human  mind  from  the  yoke  of  secular  power,  it  proved  itself  en¬ 
lightened  enough  and  strong  enough  to  emancipate  it  from  the 
yoke  of  the  ecclesiastical  institution  through  which,  in  great  part, 
that  deliverance  had  been  achieved. 

Looking  at  the  constitution  of  the  State  itself,  we  see  plainly  how 
Christianity  has  introduced,  and  tends  to  introduce,  a  just  meas¬ 
ure  of  political  liberty,  and  a  fair  distribution  of  political  power. 
The  constitution  of  the  Church  as  its  Founder  established  it,  the 
fraternal  equality  of  its  members,  the  mutual  respect  for  opinion 
and  preference  which  was  enjoined,  the  forbidding  of  a  lordship 
like  that  which  existed  in  secular  society  —  all  tended  strongly  to 
bring  analogous  ideas  and  parallel  relations  into  the  civil  commu¬ 
nity.  Liberty  was  prized  by  the  ancients ;  but  what  sort  of  lib¬ 
erty  ?  At  Athens,  the  citizens  were  but  a  handful  compared  with 
the  entire  population.  InRome,  citizenship  was  a  privilege  jeal- 
ously  guarded  by  the  select  possessors  of  it.  When,  at  last,  polit¬ 
ical  equality  was  attained,  it  was  through  the  absolute  rule  of  the 
emperors,  after  liberty  had  vanished.  Christianity  presents  no. 
abstract  pattern  of  civil  society.  It  prescribes  no  such  doctrine 
as  that  of  universal  suffrage.  But  Christianity,  by  the  respect 
which  it  pays  to  man  as  man,  by  its  antipathy  to  unjust  or  artifi¬ 
cial  distinctions,  by  its  whole  genius  and  spirit,  favors  those  forms 
of  polity  in  which  all  men  of  competent  intelligence,  who  have  a 
stake  in  the  well-being  of  the  community,  are  allowed  to  have 
some  voice  in  its  government.  So  far,  Christianity  is  not  a  neu¬ 
tral  in  the  contests  relative  to  political  rights  and  privileges.  As 
concerns  natural  rights,  which  are  always  to  be  carefully  distin¬ 
guished  from  political,  the  religion  of  Christ  continually  protests 
against  every  violation  of  justice  in  the  laws  and  institutions  of 
society.  The  Golden  Rule  it  holds  to  be  not  less  applicable  to 
those  acts  of  the  community  which  determine  the  relations  of  its 
members  to  one  another  than  to  the  private  intercourse  of  individ¬ 
uals.  Who  that  examines  the  governments  of  Christian  nations 
to-day  can  fail  to  see  what  a  mighty  influence  Christianity  has 


1  Lectures  on  the  Llistory  of  Civilization ,  ch.  ii.  p.  38. 


POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  TRANSFORM  SOCIETY  1 07 


already  exerted  in  moulding  civil  society  into  a  conformity  with 
human  rights  and  with  the  rational  conception  of  equality? 

Christianity  fundamentally  alters  the  view  which  is  taken  of  in- 
ternational  relations.  Slowly,  but  steadily,  it  makes  mankind  feel 
that  injustice  is  not  less  base  when  exercised  between  nation  and 
nation  than  between  man  and  man.  Prior  to  the  Christian  era, 
the  more  closely  the  members  of  a  tribe  or  people  were  bound 
together,  the  more  regardless  they  generally  were  of  the  rights 
and  the  welfare  of  all  beyond  their  borders.  Pretexts  were  easily 
found  —  very  often  they  were  not  even  sought  —  for  enterprises 
of  conquest  and  pillage.  As  intercourse  increased,  and  commerce 
spread,  there  was  required  some  mutual  recognition  of  rights. 
Covenants  were  made,  and  sometimes  were  kept.  Occasional 
glimpses  of  a  better  order  of  things,  in  which  mankind  should  be 
regarded  as  a  kind  of  confederacy,  were  gained  by  Stoic  philos¬ 
ophers.  Such  ideas'  were  now  and  then  thrown  out  by  rhetorical 
writers  on  politics  and  morals,  like  Cicero.  But  international  law 
existed  only  in  its  rudiments.  Selfishness  was  the  practical  rule 
of__jiational  conduce  The  strong  domineered  over  the  weak. 
Christianity  subordinated  even  patriotism  to  the  law  of  righteous¬ 
ness  and  human  brotherhood.  It  insisted  on  the  responsibility  of 
the  nation,  in  its  corporate  capacity,  to  God,  the  Father  of  all. 
It  held  up  a  nobler  ideal  for  the  regulation  of  nations  in  their 
mutual  intercourse.  It  need  not  be  said  how  much  remains  to  be 
done  in  order  that  the  Christian  law  should  be  even  approximately 
carried  out.  Yet  the  contrast  between  the  Christendom  of  to-day 
and  the  spectacle  presented  by  the  tribes  and  nations  of  antiquity: 
is  like  the  contrast  between  winter  and  spring.  In  the  middle 
ages,  the  Church,  as  an  organized  body,  through  the  clergy,  under¬ 
took  to  pacify  contention,  and  curb  the  appetite  for  aggression. 
Vast  good  was  accomplished,  but  a  new  species  of  tyranny  incident¬ 
ally  came  in.  In  modern  days,  equitable  treaties,  amicable  nego¬ 
tiations,  and,  above  all,  arbitration,  are  resorted  to  more  and  more, 
for  the  settlement  of  disputes,  the  redress  of  wrongs,  and  the  pre¬ 
vention  of  war.  Ambition  and  greed  do  not  avail  to  expel  from 
thought  the  ideal  of  the  gospel.  If  clouded  for  a  while,  it  reap¬ 
pears  in  its  full  effulgence.  Christianity  does  not  absolutely  for¬ 
bid  war,  as  it  does  not  prohibit,  but  rather  approves,  the  use  of 
force  for  the  maintenance  of  law  within  the  limits  of  each  commu¬ 
nity.  But  against  all  wars  of  aggression,  against  all  wars  which 


108  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


might  have  been  avoided  by  forbearance  and  reasonable  conces¬ 
sion,  the  religion  of  Jesus  lifts  up  a  warning  voice,  which  is  more 
and  more  heard.  A  glance  at  the  history  of  Christianity,  and  at 
the  present  condition  of  the  world,  makes  it  manifest  that  a  mighty 
force  is  incessantly  at  work  in  the  bosom  of  mankind,  which  prom¬ 
ises  at  last  to  bring  in  an  era  when  righteousness  shall  prevail  in 
the  dealings  of  the  nations  with  one  another,  and  men  shall  learn 
•war  no  more. 

The  work  which  Christianity  has  done  in  the  cause  of  charity, 
of  kindness  and  beneficence,  constitutes  a  topic  of  extreme  inter¬ 
est.  There  was  charity  before  the  gospel.  Men  were  never 
brutes.  There  was  compassion  ;  there  was  a  recognized  duty  of 
hospitality  to  strangers.  Among  the  Greeks,  Jupiter  was  the 
protector  of  strangers  and  suppliants.  There  were  not  absolutely 
wanting  combined  efforts  in  doing  good.  Institutions  of  charity 
have  not  been  entirely  unknown  in  heathen  nations.  In  China 
there  have  long  existed,  in  the  different  provinces,  hospitals  for 
two  classes,  —  for  old  people  and  for  foundlings.  In  ancient 
times  men  were  not  indisposed  to  befriend  their  own  countrymen. 
This  was  preeminently  true  of  the  Jews.  Among  the  heathen,  in 
various  towns  of  the  Roman  Empire,  physicians  were  appointed 
by  the  municipality,  whose  business  it  was  to  wait  on  the  poor 
as  well  as  on  the  rich.  Yet,  when  all  this  is  justly  considered,  the 
fact  remains,  that  charity  was  comparatively  an  unmeaning  word 
until  Christianity  appeared.  Largesses  bestowed  on  the  multitude 
by  emperors  and  demagogues  were  from  other  motives  than  a 
desire  to  relieve  distress.  Considerations  of  policy  had  a  large 
part  in  such  benefactions  as  those  of  Nerva  and  Trajan  for  poor 
children  and  orphans.  Nothing  effectual  was  done  to  check  the 
crime  of  infanticide,  which  had  the  sanction  of  philosophers  of 
highest  repute.  The  rescue  of  foundlings  was  often  the  infliction 
upon  them,  especially  upon  the  females,  of  a  lot  worse  than  death. 
Gladiatorial  fights  —  the  pastime  which  spread  over  the  Roman 
Empire  in  its  flourishing  days,  and  against  which  hardly  a  voice 
was  ever  raised  —  could  not  fail  to  harden  the  spectators,  who 
learned  to  feast  their  eyes  on  the  sight  of  human  agony. 

From  the  beginning,  the  outflow  of  charity  was  natural  to 
Christians.  God  had  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  His^  Son. 
Christ  loved  men,  and  gave  himself  for  them.  The  Christian 
principle  was  love,  and  love  was  expressed  in  giving  liberally  to 


POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  TRANSFORM  SOCIETY  109 


those  in  need.  The  disciples  at  Jerusalem  were  so  generous  in 
their  gifts  to  the  poor  of  their  number,  that  they  are  said  to  have 
“  had  all  things  in  common  ” ;  although  other  passages  in  the  Acts 
prove  that  there  was  no  actual  communism,  and  Christianity  never 
impugned  in  the  least  the  rights  of  property.  Wherever  a  church 
was  established,  there  were  abundant  offerings  regularly  made  for 
the  poor,  systematic  provisions  for  the  care  of  the  sick,  of  orphans, 
and  of  all  other  classes  who  required  aid.  Gifts  were  poured  out, 
even  for  the  help  of  Christians  in  distant  places,  without  stint. 
In  the  second  and  third  centuries  there  were  scattered  all  over 
the  Roman  world  these  Christian  societies,  whose  members  were 
bound  together  as  one  family,  each  taking  pleasure  in  relieving 
the  wants  of  every  other.  Through  their  bishops  and  other  offi¬ 
cers,  there  was  a  systematic  alms-giving  on  a  scale  for  which  no 
precedent  had  ever  before  existed.  Nor  was  it  indiscriminate,  or 
in  a  way  to  encourage  idleness,  as  it  too  often  was,  even  when  the 
motive  was  laudable,  in  the  middle  ages.  There  is  an  exhortation 
of  the  Apostle  Paul,  in  which  the  spirit  of  the  gospel,  as  it  actually 
embodied  itself  in  the  early  Church,  is  impressively  indicated. 
“  Let  him  that  stole  steal  no  more ;  but  rather  let  him  labor, 
working  with  his  hands  the  thing  which  is  good,  that  he  may  have 
to  give  to  him  that  needeth.”1  There  were  reclaimed  thieves  in 
the  church  at  Ephesus.  The  apostle  urges  them  to  industry  in 
order  that  they  may  have  the  means  of  aiding  those  in  want. 
Nothing  could  better  set  before  us  the  influence  of  the  new 
religion.  The  Apostolic  Constitutions,  which  disclose  the  rules 
followed  among  the  churches  as  early  as  the  Nicene  age,  ordain 
that  the  poor  man  shall  be  assisted,  not  according  to  his  expecta¬ 
tions,  but  in  proportion  to  his  real  needs,  of  which  the  bishops 
and  deacons  are  to  judge  ;  and  to  be  assisted  in  such  a  way  as 
best  to  secure  his  temporal  and  spiritual  good.2  It  is  added, 
“  God  hates  the  lazy.”  The  exercise  of  discrimination,  and  of 
care  not  to  foster  idleness,  is  a  frequent  theme  of  exhortation 
during  several  centuries.  In  one  of  the  earliest  post-apostolic 
writings,  the  Didache ,  or  Teaching  of  the  Twelve  Apostles ,3  the 
Christian  disciple  is  cautioned  to  keep  his  money  in  his  hands  until 

1  Ephesians  iv.  28. 

2  Const.  Apost.,  iv.  5,  iii.  4,  12-14.  See  Chastel’s  The  Charity  of  the  Primi¬ 
tive  Churches ,  p.  79. 

3  Ch.  i.  6  (see,  also,  i.  5). 


no  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


he  makes  them  “  sweat.”  Asylums  for  orphans,  hospitals  for  the 
sick,  sprang  into  being  under  the  auspices  of  the  Church.  In 
process  of  time  noscomia ,  or  hospitals  for  the  diseased,  including 
the  insane,  were  founded  in  all  the  principal  cities,  and  even 
in  smaller  towns,  and  in  some  country  places.  Nor  did  the  vast 
stream  of  benefaction  flow  out  for  the  help  of  Christians  alone. 
When  pests  broke  out,  as  at  Alexandria  in  the  third  century,  and 
somewhat  earlier  at  Carthage,  the  Christians,  under  the  lead  of  their 
clergy,  instead  of  forsaking  the  victims  of  disease,  or  driving  them 
from  their  houses,  as  the  heathen  did,  showed  their  courage  and 
compassion  by  personally  ministering  to  them.  The  parable  of 
the  Good  Samaritan  had  not  been  uttered  in  vain.  Among  the 
numerous  recorded  examples  of  charity  to  the  heathen  is  the  act  of 
Atticus,  Archbishop  of  Constantinople  (a.d.  406-426),  who,  during 
a  famine  in  Nicea,  sent  three  hundred  pieces  of  gold  to  the  pres¬ 
byter  Calliopius.  This  almoner  was  directed  to  distribute  it  among 
the  suffering  who  were  ashamed  to  beg,  without  distinction  of 
faith.  Acacius,  Bishop  of  Amida,  about  a.d.  420,  persuaded  his 
clergy  to  sell  the  gold  and  silver  vessels  of  the  church,  that  he 
might  ransom  several  thousands  of  suffering  Persian  captives  who 
had  been  taken  by  the  Romans.  On  one  occasion  Chrysostom, 
passing  through  the  streets  of  Antioch,  on  his  way  to  the  cathe¬ 
dral,  saw  a  multitude  of  poor,  distressed  persons.  He  read  to  his 
audience  the  xvith  chapter  of  the  first  epistle  to  the  Corinthians. 
Then  he  described  the  blind,  the  crippled,  and  diseased  throng 
which  he  had  just  seen,  and  proceeded  to  exhort  his  hearers  to 
exercise  toward  their  “  brothers  ”  the  compassion  which  they 
themselves  had  need  of  at  the  hands  of  God.1  “  Christian 
charity  extended  over  all  the  surface  of  the  empire,  like  a  vast 
tissue  of  benevolence.  There  was  no  city,  no  hamlet,  which,  with 
its  church  and  its  priest,  had  not  its  treasure  for  the  poor ;  no 
desert  which  had  not  its  hospitable  convent  for  travellers.  The 
compassion  of  the  Church  was  open  to  all.”2 

These  meagre  references  to  the  charitable  work  of  the  early 
Church  may  call  to  mind  the  miracle  that  Christianity  wrought  in 
penetrating  the  human  heart  with  a  spirit  of  kindness,  the  like  to 
which  the  world  before  had  never  known.  That  same  spirit,  not 
always  discreetly  it  may  be,  has  been  operative  among  Christian 
nations  ever  since.  It  is  ever  detecting  forms  of  human  want  and 
1  Opp.,  vol.  iii.  pp.  248  seq.  See  Chastel,  p.  159.  2  Chastel,  p.  304. 


POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  TRANSFORM  SOCIETY  III 


infirmity  which  have  not  been  previously  noticed,  and  devising  for 
them  relief.  No  superior  prudence  in  administering  charity,  derived 
from  social  and  economic  science,  could  have  ever  called  into  being, 
nor  can  it  ever  dispense  with,  that  temper  of  unselfish  pity  and  love 
out  of  which  the  charities  of  Christian  people,  age  after  age,  have 
continued  to  flow.  In  this  feature  of  beneficence,  the  Christendom 
of  to-day,  contrasted  with  heathen  society  of  any  age,  is  like  a  gar¬ 
den  full  of  fruits  and  flowers  by  the  side  of  a  desert. 

Christianity  is  the  only  known  corrective  of  the  evils  out  of 
which  socialism  arises.  The  enrichment  of  the  few,  and  the  im¬ 
poverishing  of  the  many,  can  be  remedied  by  no  infraction  of  the 
right  of  property,  which  would  bring  back  barbarism.  The  only 
antidote  is  to  be  found  in  that  spirit  of  beneficence  which  prompted 
Zaccheus  to  give  half  of  his  goods  to  feed  the  poor.  That  spirit, 
when  it  prevails,  will  dictate  such  arrangements  between  capitalist 
and  laborer  as  will  secure  to  the  latter  a  fair  return  for  his  toil.  It 
will  check  the  vast  accumulation  of  wealth  in  a  few  individuals. 
And  the  Christian  spirit,  as  in  ancient  days,  will  inspire  patience 
and  contentment,  and  a  better  than  an  earthly  hope,  in  the  minds 
of  the  class  whose  lot  in  life  is  hard. 

In  speaking  of  the  improvement  of  society  through  the  agency 
of  Christianity,  it  is  natural  for  us  to  think  of  the  two  great  scourges 
of  mankind,  —  war  and  slavery.  Iniquitous  wars  are  undertaken 
in  modern  days.  Yet,  if  we  compare  the  motives  that  lead  to 
warfare  now  with  those  which  in  ancient  times  filled  the  world  with 
incessant  strife,  we  cannot  but  perceive,  much  as  remains  to  be 
accomplished,  a  vast  and  salutary  change.  The  laws  and  usages 
of  war  have  felt  the  humanizing  touch  of  the  gospel.  The  manner 
in  which  non-combatants  are  treated  is  a  signal  illustration.  Once 
they  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  conqueror,  who  too  often  knew  no 
mercy.  Their  lives  were  forfeited.  Reduction  to  slavery  was  a 
mitigation  of  the  penalty  which  it  was  lawful  to  inflict  on  them. 
A  military  commander  who  should  treat  his  prisoners  as  com¬ 
manders  like  Julius  Caesar,  who  were  thought  in  their  time  to  be 
humane,  treated  them,  would  be  an  object  of  universal  execration. 
A  like  change  has  taken  place,  even  as  regards  the  property  of  a 
conquered  belligerent.  The  extinction  of  a  nationality  like  Poland, 
even  when  arguments  in  favor  of  it  are  not  wholly  destitute  of  weight, 
is  a  dark  blot  on  the  reputation  of  the  sovereigns  or  nations  by 
whom  it  is  effected.  Formerly  it  would  be  the  expected  and 


1 12  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


approved  result  of  a  successful  war.  In  the  provisions  now  made 
for  the  care  and  cure  of  the  wounded,  for  the  health  and  com¬ 
fort  of  the  common  soldier,  including  the  voluntary  labors  of 
devoted  physicians  and  nurses,  we  perceive  a  product  of  Christian 
feeling.  The  Romans  had  their  soldiers’  hospitals  (v ale tu din aria)  ; 
but  the  vast  and  varied  work  of  philanthropy  in  this  direction, 
which  belongs  to  our  time,  was  something  of  which  no  man 
dreamed. 

Ancient  slavery  was  generally  the  servitude  of  men  of  the  same 
race  as  the  master.  It  involved  the  forfeiture  of  almost  all  rights 
on  the  part  of  the  slave.  It  was  attended  with  a  kind  and  degree 
of  cruelty  which  the  intelligence  of  the  victims,  and  the  danger  of 
revolt  resulting  from  it,  seemed  to  require,  if  the  system  was  to  be 
kept  up.  In  extensive  regions  it  had  the  effect,  finally,  almost  to 
abolish  free  labor,  to  bring  landed  property  into  the  hands  of  a 
few  proprietors,  to  enervate  the  Roman  spirit,  and  thus  to  pave 
the  way  for  the  downfall  of  the  empire  through  the  energy  of  un¬ 
civilized  but  more  vigorous  races.  Christianity  found  slavery 
everywhere.  It  preached  no  revolution ;  it  brought  forward  no 
abstract  political  or  social  theory ;  but  it  undermined  slavery  by 
the  expulsive  force  of  the  new  principle  of  impartial  justice,  and 
self-denying  love,  and  fraternal  equality,  which  it  inculcated. 
From  the  beginning  it  counselled  patience  and  quiet  endurance ; 
but  it  demanded  fairness  and  kindness  of  the  master,  brought 
master  and  slave  together  at  the  common  table  of  the  Lord,  and 
encouraged  emancipation.  The  law  of  Constantine  (a.d.  321), 
which  forbade  all  civil  acts  on  Sunday,  except  the  emancipation 
of  slaves,  was  in  keeping  with  all  his  legislation  on  the  subject  of 
slavery.  It  is  a  true  index  of  the  state  of  feeling  which  is  mani¬ 
fest  in  the  discourses  of  the  eminent  teachers  of  the  Church  of  that 
period.  Ancient  slavery,  and,  afterward,  serfdom  in  the  medieval 
;  age,  disappeared  under  the  steady  influence  of  Christian  sentiment, 
i  The  revival  of  slavery  in  modern  times  has  been  followed  by  a  like 
result  under  the  same  agency.  A  century  ago  the  slave-trade  on 
the  coast  of  Africa  was  approved  by  Protestant  Christians.  At 
first,  after  his  conversion,  John  Newton,  the  pastor  of  Cowper,  did 
not  condemn  it.  But  at  length  the  perception  dawned  on  his 
mind,  and  became  a  deep  conviction,  that  the  capture  and  enslave¬ 
ment  of  human  beings  is  unchristian.  The  same  conviction  en¬ 
tered  other  minds.  It  grew  and  spread,  until,  in  the  treaties  of 


POWER  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  TRANSFORM  SOCIETY  113 


leading  nations,  the  slave-trade  has  been  declared  to  be  piracy. 
This  amazing  change  was  not  wrought  by  a  new  revelation.  It 
was  the  effect  of  the  steady  shining  of  the  light  of  Christian  truth 
long  ago  recorded  in  the  Scriptures. 

If  it  were  practicable  to  dwell  upon  the  varied  consequences  of 
the  religion  of  Christ  as  they  are  seen  in  the  actual  state  of  Chris¬ 
tian  civilization,  we  should  have  to  trace  out  the  modifications  of 
political  science  under  the  benign  influence  of  the  gospel,  the 
transforming  effect  of  Christian  ethics  in  such  departments  as 
prison  discipline  and  penal  law,  the  new  spirit  that  breathes  in 
modern  literature,  which  emanates  from  Christian  ideas  of  human 
nature,  of  forgiveness,  and  of  things  supernatural  —  a  spirit  which 
is  vividly  felt  when  one  passes  from  the  dramas  of  AEschylus  to 
the  dramas  of  Shakespeare  —  the  way  in  which  the  arts  of  music, 
painting,  and  sculpture  have  developed  new  types  of  beauty  and 
harmony  from  contact  with  the  Christian  faith,  the  indirect  power 
of  Christianity  in  promoting  discoveries  and  inventions  that  con¬ 
duce  to  health  and  material  comfort,  the  softening  influence  of 
Christianity  upon  manners  and  social  intercourse,  and  even  move¬ 
ments  to  protect  animals  from  cruel  treatment.  But  the  topic  is 
too  broad  to  be  pursued  farther. 

To  appreciate  the  magnitude  of  the  results  of  Christianity,  one 
must  bear  in  mind  that  they  do  not  consist  alone  or  chiefly  in  ex¬ 
ternal  changes.  There  is  a  transformation  of  thought  and  feeling.-. 
The  very  texture  of  the  spirits  of  men  is  not  what  it  was.  The 
conscience  and  the  imagination,  the  standards  of  judgment,  the 
ideals  of  character,  the  ends  and  aims  of  human  endeavor,  have 
undergone  a  revolution.  When  a  continent,  with  its  huge  moun¬ 
tains  and  broad  plains,  is  gradually  lifted  up  out  of  the  sea,  there 
is  no  doubt  that  a  mighty  force  is  silently  active  in  producing  so 
amazing  an  effect.  What  is  any  physical  change  in  comparison 
with  that  moral  and  spiritual  transformation,  not  inaptly  called  “  a 
new  creation,”  which  Christianity  has  already  caused? 

Now,  the  total  effect  of  Christianity  which  Christendom  —  past 
and  present,  and  future  as  far  as  we  can  foresee  the  future  —  pre¬ 
sents,  is  due  to  the  personal  agency  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  It  can 
even  be  shown  to  be  largely  due  to  a  personal  love  to  him  which 
animated  the  Christians  of  the  first  centuries,  and  which  still  per¬ 
vades  a  multitude  of  disciples  who  call  themselves  by  his  name. 
Had  this  bond  of  personal  gratitude  and  trust  been  absent,  this 


1 14  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


vast  result  could  never  have  come  to  pass.  The  power  of  Chris¬ 
tianity  in  moulding  Christendom  is  undeniably  owing  to  the  reli¬ 
gious  and  supernatural  elements  which  are  involved  in  the  life, 
character,  and  work  of  Jesus  Christ.  Had  he  been  conceived  of 
as  merely  a  human  reformer,  a  teacher  of  an  excellent  system  of 
morals,  a  martyr,  the  effect  would  never  have  followed.  Subtract 
the  faith  in  him  as  the  Sent  of  God,  as  the  Saviour  from  sin  and 
death,  as  the  hope  of  the  soul,  and  you  lose  the  forces  without 
which  the  religion  of  Jesus  could  never  have  supplanted  the  ancient 
heathenism,  regenerated  the  Teutonic  nations,  and  begotten  the 
Christian  civilization  in  the  midst  of  which  we  live,  and  which  is 
spreading  over  the  globe.  Men  may  raise  a  question  about  this 
or  that  miracle  recorded  in  the  gospels.  The  miracle  of  Christen¬ 
dom,  wrought  by  Christ,  is  a  fact  which  none  can  question. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE  EVIDENCE  OF  THE  DIVINE  ORIGIN  OF  CHRISTIANITY  FROM  ITS 

ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  AND  FROM  THE  COMPARISON 

OF  IT  WITH  THE  GREEK  PHILOSOPHY 

Christianity  stands  in  an  organic  relation  to  the  ancient  reli¬ 
gion  of  the  Hebrews.  The  very  name  “  Christ  ”  is  an  Old  Testa¬ 
ment  title.  It  is  equally  true,  however,  that  Christianity  is  a  signal 
advance  upon  the  Old  Testament  religion.  The  Hebrew  Scrip¬ 
tures  themselves  point  forward  to  an  era  when  the  system  of  which 
they  are  the  records  is  to  resolve  itself  into  something  almost 
inconceivably  higher.  That  Christianity  is  on  that  higher  plane 
foreshadowed  of  old,  the  New  Testament  distinctly  and  emphati¬ 
cally  declares,  and  it  is  quite  evident.  It  did  not  confine  itself  to 
the  reform  of  a  system  which  had  fallen  into  degeneracy.  Far 
from  it.  Rather  does  it  present  itself  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus, 
and  elsewhere  in  the  New  Testament,  as  the  absolute  religion. 
It  carries  out  to  perfection  whatever  revelations  had  preceded. 
In  this  way  alone  could  the  ideal  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  before 
imperfectly  conceived  and  dimly  sketched,  be  realized.  Through 
Christ  the  relation  of  God  to  the  world  is  fully  disclosed.  In 
the  long  crusade  against  heathenism,  along  with  the  unity  and 
personality  of  God,  his  transcendence  was  set  forth  in  bold  relief. 
It  was  left  to  the  religion  of  the  New  Testament  to  emphasize 
its  counterpart,  his  immanence.  He  is  in  the  world,  although 
not  to  be  identified  with  it.  Through  Christ  the  kingdom  of  God 
actually  attains  its  universal  character.  Religion  is  not  coincident, 
as  in  all  the  ancient  communities,  with  the  limits  of  a  single  com¬ 
munity.  It  is  not  restricted  as  was  the  cult  of  the  Hebrew  faith. 
The  heavenly  good  of  the  gospel  is  of  such  a  nature  that  it  can 
be,  and  must  be,  offered  indiscriminately  to  all  men.  The  sense 
of  a  common  relationship  to  Christ  and  to  God  melts  away  all 
differences.  Appealing  to  a  common  religious  sentiment,  a  com¬ 
mon  consciousness  of  sin  and  of  the  need  of  help,  and  offering  a 
remedy  that  is  equally  adapted  to  all  mankind,  Christianity  shows 

”5 


1 1(5  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


itself  possessed  of  the  qualities  of  a  universal  religion.  Christianity 
vindicates  for  itself  this  character,  as  being  a  religion  of  principles, 
not  of  rules.  Where  the  aim  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus  is  accom¬ 
plished,  the  soul  becomes  a  law  to  itself.  The  end  which  the  soul 
sets  before  it  is  itself  a  criterion  of  what  is  to  be  done  and  what 
omitted.  The  purpose  in  view  is  to  infuse  a  new  life.  The  work 
of  the  gospel,  as  it  is  depicted  both  by  Jesus  and  by  the  Apostles, 
is  to  effect  a  new  creation  in  humanity  —  to  render  his  disciples 
new  creatures  in  the  fellowship  with  him.  It  thereby  establishes 
a  filial  connection  between  man  and  God.  In  its  inculcation  of 
seminal  principles,  not  seeking  to  dictate  or  restrain  conduct 
farther  than  these  may  prompt,  it  shows  itself  the  ultimate  type 
of  religion.  As  to  things  external,  those  who  insist  on  a  leaden 
uniformity,  unmodifiable  forms  of  polity  and  ritual,  misconceive 
the  teaching  of  Jesus  and  the  catholic  quality  which  permeates  it. 

The  injunctions  of  the  gospel  are  not  a  closed  aggregate  of 
precepts,  cut  and  dried.  They  are  truths  containing  seeds  of 
development,  so  that  the  compass  of  perceived  obligations,  the 
ramifications  of  Christian  duty,  are  perpetually  spreading.  The 
sphere  of  moral  culture  and  of  Christian  beneficence,  in  its  basis 
ever  the  same,  is  continually  opening  out  in  new  directions.1  Thus 
it  is  never  outgrown  and  never  obsolete. 

I  The  ethical  teaching  of  Jesus,  confining  moral  good  and  evil  to 
cherished  feelings  and  inward  purposes,  attaches  approval  and 
condemnation,  not  to  expressions  in  word  and  conduct  in  them¬ 
selves,  but,  in  the  case  of  evil,  to  the  hidden  germs  within  the 
soul,  the  impure  desire,  the  vindictive  wish,  the  unjust  or  unchari¬ 
table  judgment,  permitted  in  the  heart.  This  is  the  exalted  ideal 
of  the  gospel. 

In  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  ethics  and  religion  are  inseparable. 
The  essential  nature  of  both  is  reducible  to  a  single  principle. 
In  this  particular  His  teaching  is  of  transcendent  worth.  The  duty 
is  love  to  God  in  no  confined  measure,  —  love  to  the  infinite  Being, 
but  like  unto  this  law,  that  is,  of  a  piece  with  it,  and  is  impartial^ 
love  to  one’s  neighbor,  —  love  to  man.  The  sum  of  all  obligations 
is  the  one  principle  of  love  to  the  universal  society  of  which  God 
is  the  head,  and  of  which  every  man,  being  made  in  the  image 
of  God,  yet  finite  in  his  nature,  is  a  member  and,  in  essential 
worth,  the  peer  of  every  other.  No  simplification  could  be  more 

1  As  illustrated  admirably  in  Jesus  Christ  and  the  Social  Question .  by  F.  G. 
Peabody. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  l\J 


complete  or  exhaustive.  It  extends  over  the  whole  field  of  human 
obligation,  and  goes  down  to  the  root  of  character. 

Christian  ethics  is  sometimes  charged  with  serious  defects. 
J.  SLMilL  observes,  “  I  believe  that  other  ethics  than  that  which 
can  be  evolved  from  exclusively  Christian  sources  must  exist  side 
by  side  with  Christian  ethics  to  produce  the  moral  regeneration 
of  mankind.”  1  He  guards  against  misunderstanding  by  adding, 
“  I  believe  that  the  sayings  of  Christ  are  all  that  I  can  see  any 
evidence  of  their  having  been  intended  to  be ;  that  they  are  irrec¬ 
oncilable  with  nothing  which  a  comprehensive  morality  requires ; 
that  everything  which  is  excellent  in  ethics  may  be  brought  within 
them,  with  no  greater  violence  to  their  language  than  has  been 
done  by  all  who  have  attempted  to  deduce  from  them  any  prac¬ 
tical  system  of  conduct  whatever.”  2  If  nothing  more  were  meant 
than  that  the  New  Testament  does  not  pretend  to  define  all  the 
particulars  of  duty,  but  leaves  them  in  some  cases  to  be  inferred, 
Mill’s  observation  would  be  just.  He  refers,  in  support  of  his 
criticism,  to  the  absence  of  any  recognition,  in  Christian  ethics,  of 
duty  to  the  State,  to  the  negative  character  of  Christian  precepts, 
to  an  exclusive  emphasis  laid  upon  the  passive  virtues,  and  to  the 
want  of  reference  to  magnanimity,  personal  dignity,  the  sense  of 
honor,  and  the  like  —  qualities  which,  he  says,  we  learn  to  esteem 
from  Greek  and  Roman  sources. 

The  imputation  that  Christian  precepts  are  preeminently  nega¬ 
tive,  is  surely  not  well  founded.  It  is  not  “  a  fugitive  and  clois¬ 
tered  virtue  ”  which  is  enjoined  in  the  New  Testament.  To  do 
good  is  made  not  less  obligatory  than  to  shun  evil.3  The  religion 
which  has  for  its  work  to  transform  the  world  is  not  satisfied  with 
a  mere  abstinence  from  wrong-doing. 

It  is  not  true  that  by  insisting  on  mutual  benevolence,  Chris¬ 
tianity  thereby  weakens  the  force  of  particular  obligations.  The 
gospel  does  not  frown  upon  patriotism  any  more  than  upon  the 
domestic  affections.  Not  the  love  of  country,  more  than  the  love 
of  kindred,  is  chilled  by  Christian  teaching.  The  State,  as  well  as 
the  family,  is  recognized  as  a  part  of  the  divine  order.  Jesus  was 
moved  to  tears  by  the  doom  of  Jerusalem.  It  was  an  Apostle 
who  loved  his  own  people  so  ardently  that  he  was  willing  to  be 
accursed  for  their  sake.4 


1  On  Liberty ,  p.  93. 

2  P-  94- 


3  See  e.g.  Matt.  v.  16,  xxv.  43. 

4  Romans  ix.  3. 


II 8  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THE1STIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


If  the  passive  virtues  are  prominent  in  the  Christian  system,  it  is 
not  as  the  substitute,  but  as  the  complement,  of  qualities  of  another 
class.  Revenge  is  unlawful ;  truth  is  not  to  be  propagated  by  vio¬ 
lence  ;  but  unrighteousness  in  every  form  is  assailed  with  an  earnest¬ 
ness  that  admits  of  no  increase.  The  non-resistance  enjoined  in  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  not  a  prohibition  to  inflict  suffering  upon 
wrong-doers,  but  to  do  this  with  retaliation  as  a  motive,  and  not 
discerning  the  efficacy  of  the  practice  enjoined  in  the  precept 
“overcome  evil  with  good.”  Nor  does  the  religion  of  the  New 
Testament  discountenance  the  use  of  force  for  the  protection  of 
society.  The  magistrate  is  the  minister  of  God  for  the  execution 
of  justice.  As  for  magnanimity,  the  sense  of  honor,  and  kindred 
feelings,  they  are  included  in  the  category  of  whatsoever  things  are 
true,  honest,  pure,  lovely,  and  of  good  report.1  Christianity  ex¬ 
cludes  nothing  that  is  admirable  from  its  ideal  of  character ;  and 
if  there  be  virtues  which  have  flourished  on  heathen  ground,  Chris¬ 
tianity  takes  them  up,  while  at  the  same  time  it  infuses  into  them 
a  new  spirit  —  the  leaven  of  self-renunciation. 

Robust  and  aggressive  elements  enter  into  the  Christian  ideal 
of  character ;  yet  there  was  a  reason  why,  at  the  outset,  stress 
should  be  laid  upon  meekness,  patience,  resignation,  and  the  other 
virtues  called  passive.  The  foes  of  a  Christian  were  of  his  own 
household.  All  the  forces  of  society,  civil  and  ecclesiastical,  were 
combined  against  him.  There  was  the  strongest  possible  need  for 
the  exercise  of  just  these  qualities.  Particular  affections,  like  the 
love  of  home  and  of  country,  have  a  root  in  Christian  ethics.  But 
since  Christianity  came  into  a  world  where  patriotism,  and  other 
affections  limited  in  their  range,  exercised  a  control  that  supplanted 
the  broader  principle  of  philanthropy,  it  was  requisite  that  the 
wider  and  more  generic  principles  should  be  inculcated  with  all 
urgency,  not  with  a  view  to  extirpate  or  enervate,  but  to  keep 
within  bounds  and  to  purify  subordinate  principles  of  action.  In 
Christian  ethics,  all  the  virtues,  the  milder  and  the  more  nega¬ 
tive,  with  the  bolder  and  the  more  heroic  —  courage  in  suffering 
and  courage  in  action,  the  self-sacrifice  of  the  mother  in  her  house¬ 
hold,  of  the  patriot  on  the  battle-field,  of  the  missionary  to  dis¬ 
tant  nations  —  find  a  just  recognition. 

In  these  inquiries  it  is  important  not  to  overlook  the  distinctive 

1  Phil,  iv.  8.  See  also  i  Cor.  xiii.,  a  chapter  which  evidently  reflects  the 
spirit  of  the  ethical  teaching  of  Jesus. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  1 19 


character  of  Christianity.  It  is  a  religion.  It  is  not  primarily  or 
chiefly  a  code  of  moral  precepts.  Morality  finds  a  broader  state¬ 
ment  and  a  more  impressive  sanction,  and,  above  all,  it  gains  a 
new  motive.  But  the  morals  of  the  gospel  are  not  the  first  nor  the 
main  thing.  Gibbon  plumes  himself  on  finding  in  Isocrates  a  pre¬ 
cept  which  he  pronounces  the  equivalent  of  the  Golden  Rule.  He 
might  have  collected  like  sayings  from  a  variety  of  heathen  sources  ; 
although  neither  Confucius  nor  any  other  of  the  authors  in  whom 
these  sayings  are  found  contains  the  Christian  precept  in  a  form 
at  once  positive  and  not  merely  prohibitive,  and  in  a  form  universal, 
and  not  merely  in  reference  to  certain  particular  relations  in  life  — 
as  to  that  of  father  and  son.  But  an  ethical  precept,  not  very  remote 
in  its  tenor,  may  undoubtedly  be  cited  from  a  number  of  ethnic 
teachers,  and  also  from  ancient  Rabbis.  Nowhere,  to  be  sure,  has 
it  the  preeminence  assigned  to  it  in  the  legislation  of  Jesus.1  But 
the  originality  of  the  gospel  does  not  consist  in  particular  direc¬ 
tions  pertaining  to  the  conduct  of  life,  however  pure  and  noble 
they  may  be.  On  special  points  of  duty  it  is  true  that  Christianity 
speaks  with  an  impressiveness  never  equalled  elsewhere.  But 
while  an  awe-inspiring  tone  is  heard  in  its  moral  injunctions,  not 
everything  in  them  is  absolutely  novel.  Christianity  is,  in  its 
essence,  a  religion.  Nor  is  the  substance  of  Christianity  to  be 
found  either  in  its  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  nor  in 
various  other  propositions  which  it  is  usual  to  classify  under  the 
head  of  religious  beliefs. 

Christianity  has  been  truly  styled  the  religion  of  redemption. 
Here  lies  its  defining  characteristic.  It  is  the  approach  of  heaven 
to  men,  the  mercy  of  God  coming  down  to  lift  them  up  to  a 
higher  fellowship.  The  originality  of  Christianity  is  to  be  sought 
in  the  character  and  person  of  Christ  and  in  the  new  life  that 
goes  forth  from  him,  to  be  appropriated  by  the  race  of  mankind. 

Probably  no  achievement  of  the  human  mind  in  the  same  field 
of  thought  outranks  the  Greek  philosophy.  In  modern  ages  the 
literature  on  like  themes  is  composed  not  without  the  potent 
aid  of  the  Christian  Scriptures,  and  the  light  which  has  spread 

1  In  the  gospel,  however,  it  does  not  supersede  the  need  of  the  Christian 
exposition  of  that  which  the  individual  may  rightfully  claim  or  desire  for  him¬ 
self.  It  is  given  to  rid  the  disciple  of  the  misleading  effect  of  a  selfish  bias; 
in  other  words,  to  brace  him  up  on  the  weak  side. 


120  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


from  this  source.  As  indicating  the  native  power  of  the  human 
intellect  to  ascertain  the  truth  in  the  sphere  of  ethics  and  re¬ 
ligion,  there  is  nothing  which  rises  to  the  level  of  that  develop¬ 
ment  of  philosophical  thought  which  Bacon  styles  “  the  pagan 
divinity.”  Hence  a  comparison  of  it  with  the  teachings  of  Christ 
and  His  disciples  ought  to  aid  us  in  solving  the  question  whether 
there  is  a  likelihood  that  Christianity  owes  its  being  to  man  alone, 
or,  as,  according  to  the  Evangelist,  the  question  is  stated  by  Christ 
Himself,  —  whether  the  teaching  be  of  God,  or  whether  He  speaks 
of  Himself.1 

The  .  Greek  Philosophy  was  a  preparation  for  Christianity  in  a 

iLthreefold  way.  It  dissipated,  or  tended  to  dissipate,  the  supersti¬ 
tions  of  polytheism;  it  awakened  a  sense  of  need  which  philoso¬ 
phy  of  itself  failed  to  meet ;  and  it  so  educated  the  intellect  and 
conscience  as  to  render  the  gospel  apprehensible,  and,  in  many 
cases,  congenial  to  the  mind.  It  did  more  than  remove  obstacles 
out  of  the  way.  Its  work  was  positive  as  well  as  negative.  It  orig¬ 
inated  ideas  and  habits  of  thought  which  had  more  or  less  direct 
affinity  with  the  religion  of  the  gospel,  and  which  found  in  this 
religion  their  proper  counterpart.  The  prophetic  element  of  the 
Greek  philosophy  lay  in  the  glimpses  of  truth  which  it  could  not 
fully  discern,  and  in  the  obscure  and  unconscious  pursuit  of  a 
good  which  it  could  not  definitely  grasp. 

Socrates  stands  at  the  beginning  of  this  movement.  The  pre¬ 
ceding  philosophy  had  been  predominantly  physical.  It  sought 
for  an  explanation  of  nature.  The  mystic,  Pythagoras,  blended 
with  his  natural  philosophy  moral  and  religious  doctrine ;  but  that 
doctrine,  whatever  it  was,  appears  to  have  rested  on  no  scientific 
basis.  Socrates  is  the  founder  of  moral  science ;  and  the  whole 
subsequent  course  of  Greek  philosophy  is  traceable  to  the  impulse 
which  emanated  from  this  remarkable  man.  He  was  aptly  styled 
by  the  Florentine  Platonist  of  the  Renaissance,  Marsilius  Ficinus, 
the  John  the  Baptist  for  the  ancient  world. 

i.  The  soul  and  its  moral  improvement  was  the  great  subject 
\  that  employed  his  attention.  All  his  inquiries  and  reflections,  writes 
Xenophon,  turned  upon  what  was  pious,  what  impious  ;  what  honor¬ 
able,  what  base  ;  what  just,  what  unjust ;  what  wisdom,  what  folly  ; 
what  courage,  what  cowardice ;  what  a  state  or  political  commu¬ 
nity,  and  the  like.  This  searching  method  of  laying  bare  weak- 

1  John  vii.  17. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  12 1 


ness  and  folly  finally  had  the  effect,  as  Xenophon  records,  that 
many  “  who  were  once  his  followers,  had  forsaken  him.”  Who 
can  fail  to  be  reminded  of  the  ixerdvoLa  —  the  self-judgment  and 
reform  —  which  were  required  at  the  very  first  preaching  of  the 
gospel  ? 

2.  Socrates  asserted  the  doctrine  of  theism,  and  taught  and  ex¬ 
emplified  the  spiritual  nature  of  religion.  It  is  true  that  he  believed 
in  “gods  many  and  lords  many.”  But  he  believed  in  one  su¬ 
preme,  personal  being,  to  whom  the  deepest  reverence  was  to  be 
paid.  He  taught  the  truth  of  a  universal  Providence.  “  He  was 
persuaded,”  says  the  same  disciple,  “that  the  gods  watch  over  the 
actions  and  affairs  of  men  in  a  way  altogether  different  from  what 
the  vulgar  imagined ;  for  while  these  limited  their  knowledge  to 
some  particulars  only,  Socrates,  on  the  contrary,  extended  it  to 
all;  firmly  persuaded  that  every  word,  every  action,  nay,  even  our 
most  retired  deliberations,  are  open  to  their  view ;  that  they  are 
everywhere  present,  and  communicate  to  mankind  all  such  knowl¬ 
edge  as  relates  to  the  conduct  of  human  life.”  1  He  had  only  one 
prayer,  that  the  gods  would  give  him  those  things  that  were  good, 
of  which  they  alone  were  the  competent  judges.  No  service  is  so 
acceptable  to  the  Deity  as  that  of  “  a  pure  and  pious  soul.” 2  He 
counselled  absolute  obedience  to  the  Deity,  and  acted  on  this 
principle.  He  chose  his  career  in  compliance  with  an  inward 
call  from  God,  which  he  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  disregard.  At 
his  trial,  in  his  Apology,  he  said,  “  Be  of  good  cheer  about  death, 
and  know  this  of  a  truth  —  that  no  evil  can  happen  to  a  good 
man,  either  in  life  or  after  death.”  3 

3.  Socrates  had  a,  belief,  not  a  confident  belief,  in  the  future  life 
and  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  The  last  word  in  his  final 
address  is  :  “  The  hour  of  departure  has  arrived,  and  we  go  our 
ways  —  I  to  die,  and  you  to  live.  Which  is  better,  God  only 
knows.”  4  Plis  last  words  to  his  friends,  if  we  may  trust  the  Phcedo , 
were  significant  of  a  hope. 5 

4.  In  the  ethical  doctrine  of  Socrates,  virtue  is  identified  with 

1  Kai  yap  inpLeXeio-OaL  deotis  ivbpufeu  avdpwiruv,  oi>x  ov  Tpbirov  oi  -rroXXoi 
vop-L^ovaiv,  ovtol  p.iv  yap  o’lovrai  to  vs  deobs  ra  piv  eldevai,  ra  5’  ovk  elSlvai. 
'SicoKpcLTTjs  Si  iravTa  piv  ijyeLTO  deobs  eLSivai,  t&  re  Xeyopeva  Kai  irparropeva 
Kai  ra  (nyrj  (3ovXev6peva,  tt avraxov  Si  wapeivac,  Kai  crripaLveiv  rois  avOpunrois 
7r epi  tCov  avOpu-rreicov  ira vtwv.  —  Mem.,  I.  i.  19. 

2  Alem.,  I.  iii.  3.  3  Apology,  41  C.  D.  4  Ibid.,  29  A.  6  Ibid.,  42. 


122  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


knowledge,  with  the  discernment  of  the  highest  good.  This  is 
evident  from  the  reports  of  Xenophon,  as  well  as  from  Plato.  The 
perception  of  virtue  could  not  fail  to  be  attended  with  the  prac¬ 
tice  of  it.  None  who  saw  the  highest  good,  would  fail  to  choose 
it.1  The  doctrine  of  Socrates,  which  Aristotle  also  attributes  to 
him,  would,  if  logically  carried  out,  resolve  virtue  into  an  intellect¬ 
ual  state,  and  subvert  the  ground  of  moral  accountableness  for 
evil  doing.  Thus,  unwittingly,  he  paved  the  way  for  that  intellect- 
ualism  which  made  the  highest  spiritual  attainments  accessible 
only  to  the  gifted  few  —  a  spirit  which  pervaded  the  schools  of 
Greek  philosophy  afterward.  His  aim  was  a  worthy  one, —  to  im¬ 
part  to  ethics  a  scientific  character. 

5.  He  was  personally  far  from  disposed  to  exaggerate  the  in¬ 
tellectual  powers  of  man,  or  to  overlook  the  limits  of  human  reason. 
On  the  contrary,  he  was  characterized  by  a  genuine  humility. 

In  passing  to  Plato,  we  do  not  leave  Socrates ;  but  it  is  not  pos¬ 
sible  to  draw  the  line,  in  the  Platonic  Dialogues,  between  the 
teaching  of  the  master  and  the  ideas  and  opinions  of  the  more 
speculative  disciple.  The  elevated  tone  of  the  Platonic  system, 
and  its  many  points  of  congeniality  with  Christian  truth,  have 
been  recognized  in  the  Church  in  ancient  and  in  modern  times. 
Men  like  Origen  and  Augustine,  among  the  Fathers,  were  imbued 
with  the  Platonic  spirit.  Not  a  few,  as  far  back  as  Justin  Martyr 
and  as  late  as  Neander,  have  found  in  the  lofty  teaching  of  Plato 
a  bridge  over  which  they  have  passed  into  the  kingdom  of  Christ. 
Turn  where  we  will  in  these  immortal  productions,  we  are  in  the 
bracing  atmosphere  of  a  spiritual  philosophy.  We  touch  on  some 
of  the  most  important  points  which  invite  comparison  with  Chris¬ 
tian  doctrine. 

1.  Plato’s  conception  of  God  approaches  but  fails  to  attain  to 
that  of  Christianity.  He  teaches  that  God  is  a  Person,  a  self-con¬ 
scious  intelligence.  No  other  interpretation  of  his  doctrine  is  so 
reconcilable  with  his  various  utterances  on  the  subject.2  In  the 

1  Mem.,  III.  ix.  4.  For  further  illustrative  passages,  see  Ueberweg,  Hist, 
of  Philosophy,  i.  85. 

2  By  some  his  idea  of  the  good  is  identified  absolutely  with  God:  but  see 
Butler’s  Lectures  on  Ancient  Phil.,  ii.  62,  but  also  Thompson’s  note.  See 
also  Ritter,  Hist,  of  Ancient  Phil.,  ii.  284.  For  other  views  of  the  passage  in 
the  Republic,  vi.  508,  see  Zeller,  Gesch.  d.  Griech.  Phil.,  ii.  208,  309,  310. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  123 


tenth  book  of  The  Laws  he  speaks  of  the  “  lost  and  perverted  na¬ 
tures  ”  who  have  adopted  atheism.  But  Plato  did  not  escape  from 
the  dualism  which  clung  to  Greek  as  well  as  to  Oriental  thinking. 
Matter  is  eternal,  and  is  an  independent  and  a  partially  intrac¬ 
table  material.  God  fashions,  He  does  not  create,  the  world. 
Then,  side  by  side  with  the  Supreme  Being,  is  the  realm  of  ideas, 
the  patterns  and  archetypes  of  whatever  comes  to  be,  and  which, 
it  is  clear  not  only  from  Plato  himself,  but  also  from  the  polemical 
attitude  of  Aristotle,  are  conceived  of  as  substantial  entities.  By 
thus  assigning  to  the  ideas  a  kind  of  separate  existence,  Plato  gave 
room  and  occasion  for  the  pantheistic  turn  which  his  system  as¬ 
sumed  in  the  hands  of  professed  Platonists  of  a  later  day. 

2.  He  followed  Socrates  in  his  implicit  faith  in  divine  Provi¬ 
dence,  §0  far  even  as  the  care  of  the  individual  is  concerned.1  But 
we  miss  in  him,  as  in  the  ancient  philosophers  generally,  any  concep¬ 
tion  of  the  final  cause  of  history,  of  a  goal  to  which  the  course  of 
history  tends,  such  as  we  have  in  the  Christian  idea  of  the  kingdom 
of  God  on  earth ;  and  hence  there  is  wanting  a  broad  and  satisfy¬ 
ing  conception  of  the  Providence  of  God  as  related  to  mankind. 
Hellenic  pride,  the  Greek  feeling  of  superiority  to  the  barbarian, 
was  one  thing  which  stood  in  the  way  of  an  ampler  idea  of  the 
plan  of  God  respecting  the  human  race.  Plato  was  not  emanci¬ 
pated  from  this  feeling.2  But  as  to  the  moral  government  of  God, 
under  which  the  good  are  rewarded  and  the  evil  chastised  and 
punished,  both  in  this  world  and  in  the  world  to  come  —  this  is  a 
conviction  with  which  his  mind  is  profoundly  impressed.3 

3.  Plato  teaches  the  super-terrestrial  properties  and  destiny  of 

the  soul.  Man  is  possessed  of  a  principle  of  intelligence  —  voDs 
—  and  is  thus  in  the  image  of  God.  In  a  beautiful  passage  of  the 
Plicedo ,  the  notion  is  confuted  that  the  soul  is  a  mere  harmony  of 
parts  or  elements,  subject  to  the  affections  of  the  body.  Rather  is 
it  a  nature  which  leads  and  masters  them  —  “  herself  a  diviner  thing 
than  any  harmony.”  4  The  soul  is  immortal.  The  inward  life  is 
“  the  true  self  and  concernment  of  a  man.”  5  “  Let  each  one  of 

us,”  says  Plato,  “  leave  every  other  kind  of  knowledge,  and  seek 

1  Phced 62. 

2  Plato’s  objection  to  the  distinction  of  Hellenes  and  Barbarians,  in  the 
Politicus  (262),  is  on  a  logical  ground;  just  as,  in  the  context,  he  objects  to 
the  distinction  of  men  and  animals. 

3  See  Rep.,  x.  614.  4  Phced, .,  94.  6  Rep.,  iv.  443. 


o 


124  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

and  follow  one  thing  only,  if  peradventure  he  may  be  able  to  learn 
and  find  also  who  there  is  that  can  and  will  teach  him  to  distin¬ 
guish  the  life  of  good  and  evil,  and  to  choose  always  and  every¬ 
where  the  better  life  as  far  as  possible.”  1  There  are  two  patterns 
before  men,  the  one  blessed  and  divine,  the  other  godless  and 
wretched.  It  is  utter  folly  and  infatuation  to  grow  like  the  last. 
We  are  to  cling  to  righteousness  at  whatever  sacrifice.  “  No  man,” 
says  Plato,  “  but  an  utter  fool  and  coward  is  afraid  of  death  itself, 
but  he  is  afraid  of  doing  wrong.  For,  to  go  to  the  world  below, 
having  a  soul  which  is  like  a  vessel  full  of  injustice,  is  the  last  and 
worst  of  all  evils.”2  He  goes  so  far,  in  a  remarkable  passage  in 
the  Go?'gias,  as  to  say  that  a  righteous  man,  if  he  has  done  wrong, 
will  prefer  to  be  punished  rather  than  deprive  justice  of  her  due. 
“  The  next  best  thing  to  a  man  being  just,  is  that  he  should  become 
just,  and  be  chastised  and  punished.”3  His  faith  in  immortality 
moved  him  to  insist  earnestly  on  the  duty  of  caring  for  the  spiritual 
part  of  our  being.4  We  are  to  cling  to  righteousness  at  whatever 
sacrifice. 

4.  Plato  insists,  moreover,  on  the  need  of  redemption.  But 
his  idea  of  the  nature  of  redemption  is  faulty  from  the  defect 
that  characterizes  his  notion  of  sin.  Redemption  is  not  strictly 
moral,  the  emancipation  of  the  will  from  the  control  of  evil, 
although  this  element  is  not  ignored  ;  but  it  is  the  purification  of 
the  soul  from  the  pollution  supposed  to  be  inevitable  from  its  con¬ 
nection  with  matter.  The  spirit  is  to  be  washed  from  the  effect 
of  its  abode  in  the  body,  its  contact  with  a  foreign,  antagonistic 
element  that  defiles  it.  And  what  is  the  method  of  redemption  ? 
Sin  being  conceived  of  as  ignorance,  as  an  infatuation  of  the  under¬ 
standing,  deliverance  is  through  instruction,  through  science.  Hence 
the  study  of  arithmetic  and  geometry  is  among  the  remedies  pre¬ 
scribed  for  the  disorder  of  human  nature.  The  intellect  is  to  be 
corrected  in  its  action.  The  reliance  is  predominantly  upon  teach¬ 
ing.  Thus,  Plato,  through  his  dualism  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
exaggerated  part  which  he  gives  to  the  understanding  in  connection 
with  moral  action,  on  the  other,  fails  to  apprehend  exactly  both  the 
nature  ofjfin  and  of  salvation. 

5.  There  is  a  Christian  idea  at  the  bottom  of  Plato’s  ethical 
system.  Virtue  he  defines  as  resemblance  to  God  according  to 

1  Rep.,  x.  618.  3  Ibid.,  527  B. 

2  Gorgias,  522  E.  4  Phccd.,  107. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  125 


the  measure  of  our  ability.1  To  be  like  God,  Christianity  declares 
to  be  the  perfection  of  human  character.  But  there  was  wanting 
to  the  heathen  mind,  even  in  its  highest  flight,  that  true  and  full 
perception  of  the  divine  excellence  which  is  requisite  for  the  ade¬ 
quate  realization  of  this  ethical  maxim.  We  cannot  but  wonder 
at  hearing  Plato  say,  almost  by  inspiration,  “  In  God  is  no 
unrighteousness  at  all  —  He  is  altogether  righteous;  and  there  is 
nothing  more  like  Him  than  he  of  us  who  is  most  righteous.” 
“ To  become  like  Him  is  to  become  holy,  just,  and  wise.”2  Yet, 
with  Plato,  justice  is  the  crowning  virtue,  the  highest  attribute  of 
character.  It  is  justice  which  keeps  all  the  powers  of  the  soul  in 
harmony,  and  connected  with  this  regnant  virtue  are  wisdom, 
courage,  and  temperance,  corresponding  respectively  to  the 
several  functions,  reason,  the  will  with  the  higher  impulses  of  the 
spirit,  and  the  appetitive  nature.  Plato  has  only  an  occasional 
glimpse  of  the  higher  principle  of  love,  which  Christianity  makes 
the  sum  and  source  of  moral  excellence.  It  does  not  enter  as  an 
essential  link  in  his  system.3 

Moreover,  the  possession  of  virtue  in  the  highest  sense  is  possible 
only  to  the  philosopher.  And  Plato  says  that  the  philosophic  nature 
is  a  plant  that  rarely  grow7s  among  men.4  In  the  ideal  common¬ 
wealth,  it  is  only  the  few  who  are  endowed  with  philosophic  reason. 
It  is  their  prerogative  to  rule  the  many  ;  and  it  is  only  the  few  who 
are  capable  of  realizing  the  moral  ideal  in  its  perfection.  How 
opposed  is  this  to  the  gospel,  which  offers  the  heavenly  good  to 
all !  The  idea  of  an  intellectual  aristocracy,  with  respect  to  which 
Plato  stands  on  the  common  level  of  ancient  thought,  is  made 
somewhat  less  repulsive  by  the  duty  which  is  laid  upon  the  philos¬ 
opher  of  descending  “into  the  den,”  5  and  working  among  men, 
laboring  “  to  make  their  ways  as  far  as  possible  agreeable  to  the 
ways  of  God.”  6 

Plato’s  Republic  offers  the  finest  illustration  of  the  loftiness  of 
his  aspirations,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  the  barriers  which  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  surmount.  This  work  gives  evidence  of  the 
yearning  of  his  mind  for  a  more  intimate  union  and  fellowship  of 
men  than  had  hitherto  existed.  How  could  this  aspiration  be 

1  Thecet.,  176  A.  2  Ibid. 

3  The  Sytnposium,  which,  though  difficult  of  analysis,  contains  passages  of 

great  beauty,  shows  how  far  he  went  in  this  direction. 

4  Republic ,  B.  vi.  5  Ibid.,  vii.  519.  6  Ibid.,  vi.  501. 


126  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


realized?  The  only  form  of  society  in  which  he  could  conceive  it 
possible  for  such  a  community  to  come  into  being,  was  the  State. 
And,  in  order  to  give  effect  to  his  conception,  individuality  must 
be  lost  in  the  all-controlling  influence  and  sway  of  the  social  whole. 
Plato  says  that  in  the  best  ordered  state  there  will  be  a  common 
feeling,  such  as  pervades  the  parts  of  the  human  body.  He  uses 
the  very  figure  of  St.  Paul  when  he  says  of  Christians  that  they 
are  members  one  of  another.  But  this  relation  could  never  be 
produced  by  any  form  of  political  society.  Besides  this  insur¬ 
mountable  difficulty,  Plato  does  not  escape  from  the  pride  of  race. 
It  is  an  Hellenic  state,  which  he  will  found,  and  the  Hellenes  are 
not  to  treat  the  barbarians  as  they  treat  one  another,  the  Hellenic 
race  being  “  alien  and  strange  to  the  barbarians.”  1  The  vision  of 
the  republic  must,  therefore,  stand  as  an  unconscious  prophecy 
of  the  kingdom  of  Christ.  The  ancient  heathen  world  could  not 
supply  the  conditions  demanded  for  its  fulfilment. 

Aristotle,  when  compared  with  Plato,  his  great  teacher  and 
friend,  presents  fewer  points  of  similarity  to  Christian  teaching,  for 
the  reason  that  his  mind  is  less  religious,  and  that  he  confines  him¬ 
self  more  closely  to  this  mundane  sphere,  and  to  the  phenomena 
that  fall  directly  under  human  observation. 

1.  Aristotle  was  a  Theist.  He  undertakes  a  scientific  proof  of 
the  existence  of  a  supreme  intelligent  Being.2  His  conception, 
though  lofty,  is  defective  from  a  Christian  point  of  view,  since 
God  is  brought  into  no  constant,  living  relation  to  the  world,  as  its 
Creator  and  Ruler,  and,  especially,  no  place  is  found  for  His, 
moral  government. 

2.  Aristotle  holds,  likewise,  to  an  immaterial,  intelligent  prin¬ 
ciple  in  man  ;  but  he  leaves  it  doubtful  whether  this  element  of  the 
soul  is  invested  with  individuality,  and  thus  whether  our  personal 
life  continues  after  death.  Ethics,  according  to  Aristotle,  relates 
to  human  conduct,  and  does  not  concern  itself  with  the  end  or  rule 
of  action  which  the  gods  adopt  for  themselves.  He  sets  forth  no 
general  principle  like  that  of  Plato,  that  we  are  to  imitate  God 
as  far  as  possible.  And  as  the  highest  bond  of  unity  is  political, 
ethics  is  treated  as  a  subordinate  branch  of  politics.  He  discerns 
and  opposes  the  error  of  Socrates  in  confounding  virtue  with 

1  Rep.,  v.  470. 

2  Aristotle,  Metaphys.,  B.  xii.,  where  the  whole  doctrine  of  God  is  syste¬ 
matically  unfolded. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  127 


knowledge.  He  assigns  to  the  voluntary  faculty  its  proper  place. 
If  sin  were  merely  ignorance,  there  would  be  no  ground  for  blame 
or  punishment.  As  far  as  men  are  the  authors  of  their  character, 
they  are  responsible  for  the  attraction  which,  in  consequence  of 
that  character,  evil  assumes.  Aristotle  is  acquainted  with  no  trans¬ 
forming  principle  which  may  dictate  conduct  the  reverse  of  what 
has  existed  hitherto;  although,  as  Neander  has  pointed  out,  the 
doctrine  of  Aristotle  as  to  the  effect  of  moral  action  holds  good 
when  applied  to  the  fortifying  of  a  principle  already  implanted. 
One  must  be  good  in  order  to  do  good  ;  but  it  is  a  case  where  the 
fountain  is  deepened  by  the  outflow  of  its  waters. 

3.  In  the  Fourth  Book  of  the  Nicomachean  ethics,  Aristotle 
describes  the  man  of  magnanimity,  or  noble  pride.  This  por¬ 
traiture  of  the  ideal  man  contains  many  features  which,  from  a 
Christian  point  of  view,  merit  approval.  Yet  the  philosopher’s 

ideal  man,  while  he  may  be  eager  to  do . favors,  will  disdain  to 

receive  them.  The  character  which  is  depicted  by  Aristotle  in 
this  remarkable  passage  is  grand  in  its  outlines,  but  it  lacks  the 
essential  element,  the  very  leaven,  of  Christian  goodness,  the  spirit 
of  humility  and  love. 

4.  It  is  evident  that  Aristotle  does  not  rise  above  the  intellectu- 
alism  which  excludes  the  mass  of  mankind,  on  account  of  an 
alleged  natural  incapacity,  from  access  to  the  highest  good.  In 
his  treatise  on  politics  he  makes  slavery  to  be  of  two  kinds,  one 
of  which  springs  from  violence  and  the  law  of  war,  and  the  other 
from  the  inferior  mental  powers  of  the  enslaved.1  This  last  species 
of  servitude  he  defends,  on  the  ground  that  the  enslaved  are  not 
fitted  by  nature  for  any  higher  lot.  As  reason  in  the  individual  is 
to  the  lower  faculties,  and  as  the  soul  is  to  the  body,  so  is  the 
enlightened  class  in  society  to  those  beneath  them,  who  are  ani¬ 
mated  implements  to  be  managed  by  their  owners.2  In  the  New 
Testament  the  estimate  of  the  spiritual  worth  of  the  slave  is  toto 
codo  different. 

5.  At  the  close  of  his  principal  ethical  treatise,  Aristotle  dilates 
with  genuine  eloquence  on  the  lofty  delight  which  belongs  to  in¬ 
tellectual  contemplation,  wherein  man  calls  into  exercise  that  part 
of  his  being  in  which  he  resembles  the  gods,  and  in  this  act  must, 

1  B.  i.  3. 

2  With  reference  to  occasional  protests  in  Antiquity,  against  slavery,  see  J. 
Barthelemy-Saint-Hilaire,  Politique  d’ Aristote,  I.  ii.  §  3  n. 


128  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


therefore,  be  most  pleasing  to  them.  This  is  to  live  conformably 
to  that  which  is  highest  in  us,  which  is,  to  be  sure,  in  bulk  small, 
but  in  dignity  and  power  is  incomparably  superior  to  all  things  be¬ 
sides.  So  doing,  we,  though  mortal,  put  on,  as  far  as  may  be, 
immortality.  What  Aristotle  here  describes,  with  so  much  depth 
of  feeling,  as  the  highest  state  of  man,  was  necessarily  conceived 
of,  however,  as  the  privilege  of  only  a  select  few,  while  Christianity 
opens  the  door  of  access  to  the  highest  spiritual  good,  to  all  man¬ 
kind.  Nor  does  Aristotle  connect  this  elevated  form  of  activity, 
as  it  exists  either  in  God  or  men,  with  a  principle  of  beneficence 
which  is  a  fountain  of  blessing,  not  to  the  subject  alone,  but  to 
universal  society.  On  the  question  whether  personal  conscious¬ 
ness  survives  death,  the  great  question  of  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  the  writings  of  this  philosopher  contain  no  clear  and  definite 
expression  of  opinion. 

From  the  time  of  Aristotle,  the  speculative  tendency  declined, 
and  philosophy  assumed  a  practical  cast.1  Its  themes  were  virtue 
and  happiness ;  its  problems  related  to  human  life  on  earth.  The 
later  schools,  for  the  most  part,  borrowed  their  metaphysics  from 
their  predecessors.  Religious  questions,  such  as  the  relation  of 
Divine  Providence  to  human  agency,  and  to  the  existence  of  evil, 
became  prominent.  The  individual  was  thrown  back  upon  him¬ 
self,  and  became  an  object  of  consideration,  not  as  a  member  of 
the  state,  but  as  a  man,  a  member  of  the  human  race.  The 
causes  of  this  great  philosophical  change  were  various.  The  fall 
of  the  Greek  political  communites,  the  conquests  of  Alexander, 
the  fusion  of  numerous  peoples  in  the  Roman  Empire,  were  prom¬ 
inent  sources  of  this  intellectual  revolution.  The  old  political 
organizations,  in  which  the  life  of  the  individual  centred,  were 
broken  up.  He  was  driven,  almost,  to  look  upon  himself  in  a 
broader  relation,  as  a  citizen  of  the  world.  Moreover,  the  im¬ 
pulse  which  Socrates  gave  to  ethical  inquiry,  although  it  was  com¬ 
bined  in  him  with  a  speculative  element,  and  still  more  in  Plato 
and  Aristotle,  continued  to  be  potent,  and  became  prevailing. 
The  Stoic  and  Epicurean  systems,  antagonistic  to  each  other  as 
they  appear  to  be,  and  as,  in  their  particular  features,  they  really 
are,  manifest  the  same  subjective  character.  Tranquillity  and 
serenity  of  the  inner  life  is  the  end  and  aim  of  both.  Scepticism 

1  See,  on  this  change,  Zeller,  Die  Philosophic  d.  Griechen ,  vol.  iii.  i  scq. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  1 29 


followed  upon  the  rivalry  of  conflicting  systems.  Finally,  the  new 
Platonism  appeared,  a  form  of  mysticism  affording  refuge  to  the 
believing  but  perplexed  inquirer. 

Systems  which,  on  account  of  their  influence,  we  have  occasion 
here  to  consider,  are  the  Epicurean  and  the  Stoic. 

The  theology  of  Epicurus  was  a  scheme  of  practical  atheism. 
The  adherents  of  this  school  did  not  deny  the  existence  of  the 
gods,  but  they  denied  to  them  any  interest,  or  concern,  in  the 
affairs  of  the  world.  The  current  ideas  of  this  philosophy  are  em¬ 
bodied,  with  wonderful  skill  and  beauty,  in  the  poem  of  Lucretius, 
which  has  for  its  subject  the  nature  of  things.  To  account  for 
the  origin  of  the  world,  he  adopts  the  atomic  theory  of  Democritus. 

The  heavens  and  the  earth,  as  they  had  a  beginning,  approach 
the  epoch  of  decay  and  dissolution.  The  soul  is  material  and 
mortal ;  hence  the  dread  of  anything  hereafter  is  needless  and 
vain.  All  fear  of  the  gods,  with  which  men  torment  themselves, 
is  irrational,  since  the  gods  stand  aloof  from  men,  and  are  ab¬ 
sorbed  in  their  own  enjoyments.  The  end  and  aim  of  existence, 
according  to  the  Epicurean  school,  is  pleasure. 

All  good  is  resolved  into  pleasured  All  special  desires  are  to 
be  subordinate  to  the  general  desire  of  happiness ;  and  in  this 
notion  of  happiness,  the  approbation  of  conscience  is  not  included. 
Virtue,  therefore,  is  a  self-regarding  prudence.  It  is  the  control  of 
a  far-sighted  expediency  by  which  unruly  instincts  are  restrained 
from  the  excess  which  occasions  pain.  The  founders  of  this 
school  led  virtuous  lives,  but  the  doctrine  contained  no  motives 
of  sufficient  power  to  curb  the  passions  of  men  generally,  and,  in 
the  progress  of  time,  showed  its  real  tendencies. 

Stoicism  existed  in  two  forms  ;  , .first,  the  original  system  of  Zeno 
and  Chrysippus,  and,  secondly,  the  modified  Roman  Stoicism  of 
the  first  and  second  centuries  of  the  Christian  era.  If  we  looked 
at  the  metaphysics  of  Stoicism,  we  should  infer  that  this  philoso¬ 
phy  contained  little  or  nothing  in  harmony  with  Christianity.  It 
was  a  revival  of  the  early  materialistic  Pantheism.  Nothing  exists 
but  matter.  The  soul  itself  is  a  corporeal  entity.  The  universe  is 
one,  and  is  governed  by  one  all-ruling  law.  Matter  and  the  Deity 
are  identical  —  the  same  principle  in  different  aspects.  The  Deity, 
that  is  to  say,  is  the  immanent,  creative  force  in  matter,  which 
acts  ever  according  to  law.  This  principle,  developed  in  the  to¬ 
tality  of  things,  is  Zeus.  It  is  Providence,  or  Destiny.  The  uni- 


130  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


versal  force  works  blindly,  but  after  the  analogy  of  a  rational 
agency.  The  world,  proceeding  by  evolution  from  the  primitive 
fire,  eventually  returns  to  its  source  through  a  universal  conflagra¬ 
tion,  and  the  same  process  is  to  be  renewed  in  an  endless  series 
of  cycles.  Fate  rules  all.  The  world  is  an  organic  unity;  con¬ 
sidered  as  a  whole,  it  is  perfect.  Evil,  when  looked  at  in  relation 
to  the  entire  system,  is  good.  The  denial  of  free  agency,  and  of 
immortality,  was  a  corollary.  As  to  the  personality  of  the  minor 
gods,  the  old  Stoics  were  vacillating.  Now  they  are  spoken  of  as 
functions  of  nature,  and  now  as  persons.  But  if  personal,  they 
share  the  fate  of  men ;  they  disappear  in  the  final  conflagration. 

It  seems  strange  that  any  system  of  morals  worthy  of  the  name 
could  coexist  with  these  ideas.  The  truth  is,  however,  that  the 
Stoics  did  not  derive  their  ethics  from  their  physical  and  meta¬ 
physical  theories,  and  did  not  adjust  these  to  their  ethical  doc¬ 
trine.  The  essential  thing  is  to  live  according  to  nature.  This  is 
the  great  maxim  of  the  Stoic  ethics.1  By  “  nature  ”  is  meant  the 
universal  system  in  which  the  individual  is  one  link.  Sometimes, 
however,  the  constitution  of  the  individual  is  denoted ;  and  some¬ 
times  the  term  is  used  in  a  more  restricted  way  still,  to  denote  the 
rational  faculty  by  itself.  But  to  live  according  to  nature  is  the 
one  supreme,  comprehensive  duty.  Virtue  springs  from  rational 
self-determination,  where  reason  alone  guides  the  will,  and  the 
influence  of  the  affections  and  emotions  is  smothered.  These  are 
contrary  to  reason ;  they  interfere  with  the  freedom  of  the  soul. 
No  anger,  no  pity,  no  lenity,  no  indulgence  —  this  was  the  pure 
creed  of  Stoicism.  Apathy  is  the  right  condition  of  the  soul, 
which  should  be  moved  only  by  reason.  Knowledge  is  necessary 
to  virtue,  since  right  doing  without  rational  insight  does  not  fill  out 
the  conception  of  virtue.  Hence  the  virtuous  man  is  the  sage,  the 
wise  man ;  every  other  is  a  fool.  Virtue,  too,  if  it  exist  at  all, 
must  exist  as  a  whole.  It  is  a  single  principle ;  and  so,  too,  the 
vices  are  united.  Hence  the  world  is  divided  into  two  classes,  —  the 
virtuous  or  wise,  and  the  wicked  or  foolish. 

This  true  ideal  of  primitive  Stoicism  was  softened  by  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  preferables.  Virtue  is  the  sole  thing  which  is  good  in  itself. 

1  Witness  the  teaching  of  Cleanthes,  ap.  Stob.,  Eel.,  ii.  132  (Ritter  and 
Preller,  p.  380,  where  are  the  parallel  statements  of  Chrysippus).  Their 
view  is  expounded  by  Zeller,  Die  Philosophic  d.  Griechen,  vol.  iii.  §  35  :  in 
Reichel’s  Engl,  transl.,  p.  215. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  13 1 


But  certain  external  things  are  auxiliary  to  virtue,  and  these  may  be 
called  good,  in  a  secondary  sense ;  and  so  external  things,  which 
are  unfavorable  to  virtue,  may  be  termed  evil.  There  is,  also,  a 
third  class  of  neutral  things,  not  being  either  advantageous  or  hurt¬ 
ful  in  this  relation.  Thus  the  Stoics  discussed  the  question  whether 
fame  is  a  preferable,  and  on  this  point  were  divided  in  opinion. 

Stoicism  was  cosmopolitan.  It  brought  in  the  idea  of  a  citizen¬ 
ship  of  the  world.  There  is  one  community,  one  state,  one  set 
of  laws.  To  this  one  state,  all  particular  states  are  related,  as 
are  the  houses  in  a  city  to  one  another.  The  sage  labors  that 
all  may  recognize  themselves  as  one  flock,  and  dwell  together 
under  the  common  rule  of  reason.  Under  the  influence  of  this 
sentiment,  Marcus  Aurelius  and  Epictetus  utter  counsels  which 
resemble  the  New  Testament  injunctions  of  brotherly  patience  and 
lenity.1  One  must  give  himself  up  with  perfect  resignation  to  the 
course  of  the  world.  There  is  a  rationality  and  wisdom  in  it ; 
hence  the  duty  of  perfect,  uncomplaining  submission  to  things  as 
they  occur.  “  You  must  accuse  neither  God  nor  man,”  says  Epic¬ 
tetus.2  “That,”  says  M.  Aurelius,  “is  for  the  good  of  each  thing, 
which  the  universal  nature  brings  to  each.”  3 

The  Roman  Stoicism  departed  in  certain  particulars  from  the 
rigorous  doctrines  of  the  founders  of  the  sect.  There  is  a  recog¬ 
nition,  though  not  definite  and  uniform,  of  the  personality  of  God, 
of  the  reality  of  the  soul  as  distinct  from  the  body,  and  of  the  con¬ 
tinuance  of  personal  life  after  death.  Especially  in  Seneca,  the 
Stoic  philosophy  assumes  a  very  mitigated  aspect.  Self-sufficiency 
gives  way  to  a  sense  of  weakness  and  imperfection,  which  in 
terms  is  allied  to  Christian  feeling.  There  is  a  paragraph  in  his 
treatise  on  Clemency,  in  which  he  describes  the  sinfulness  of  man¬ 
kind  in  language  which  reminds  one  of  the  Apostle  Paul.4  Like 
Plato,  he  ascribes  the  creation  to  the  goodness  of  God.  Men  are 
the  children  of  God.5  The  sufferings  of  good  men  are  the  fatherly 
chastisement  inflicted  by  Him.  It  is  good  for  men  to  be  afflicted  ; 
those  who  have  not  experienced  adversity  are  objects  of  pity. 
“  Pray  and  live,”  he  says,  “  as  if  the  eye  of  God  were  upon  you.”  6 
“  Live  every  day  as  if  it  were  the  last.”7 

1  See  Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  vi.  44 ;  Epictetus,  Discourses,  III.  xxii.  54. 

2  Discourses,  iii.  xxii.  13.  5  De  Prov.,  I.  Cf.  De  Benef.,  ii.  29. 

3  Med.,  x.  20,  cf.  x.  21.  6  F.p.,  x. 

4  Ad  Marc.,  xxiv.;  see,  also,  vi.  7  Ibid.,  xii. 


132  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


The  obligation  to  cherish  just  and  human  feelings  is  fre¬ 
quently  asserted  by  Seneca.  “  Wherever  a  man  is,”  he  says, 
“  there  is  room  for  doing  good.” 1  He  condemns  gladiatorial 
shows.2  He  declares  that  “  slaves  are  our  fellow-servants,”  and  are 
to  be  kindly  treated.3 

The  coincidences  between  the  moral  teaching  of  Seneca  and 
that  of  the  New  Testament  are  numerous  and  striking.4  The 
personal  character  of  Seneca  fell  below  his  own  exalted  stand¬ 
ard  of  independence  and  excellence.  But  in  Epictetus  and 
Marcus  Aurelius,  theoretic  principles  were  better  exemplified  as 
well  as  taught. 

The  resemblance  of  parts  of  Stoic  teaching  to  passages  in  the 
New  Testament  has  naturally  been  thought  to  indicate  an  influ¬ 
ence  from  one  side  to  the  other.  We  know  that  the  Apostle  Paul 
was  not  a  stranger  to  Stoic  teaching,  one  of  the  centres  of  which 
was  at  Tarsus.  At  Athens  he  encountered  Epicurean  and  Stoic 
philosophers.5  In  his  address  on  the  Areopagus  he  quoted,  to  sup¬ 
port  his  own  doctrine,  part  of  a  verse  found  in  two  heathen  poets.6 
Passages  in  Epictetus  in  their  import,  and  to  some  extent  in  phrase¬ 
ology,  remind  us  of  passages  in  the  Evangelists.  Of  one  of  those 
passages 7  Lightfoot  observes  :  “  I  can  hardly  believe  that  the  coin¬ 
cidence  is  quite  accidental.  Combined  with  numerous  parallels 
in  Seneca’s  writings  collected  above  (pp.  281  seq.),  it  favors  the 
supposition  that  our  Lord’s  discourses  in  some  form  or  other  were 
early  known  to  heathen  writers.” 8  As  to  personal  character, 
Epictetus  and  Marcus  Aurelius  are  not  open  to  the  criticism  which 
Seneca,  the  tutor  of  Nero,  fully  deserves.  Epictetus  stands  at 
the  head  of  all  the  Stoic  writers  in  the  substance  and  in  the  spirit 
and  tone  of  his  utterances.  The  Meditations  of  Marcus  Aurelius 
contain  much  that  a  Christian  can  read  with  earnest  sympathy. 
In  these  writers  Stoicism  has  lost  much  of  its  austerity  and  breathes 
a  gentler  spirit.  A  fictitious  correspondence  between  Paul  and  the 
Roman  philosopher  was  composed,  probably,  in  the  fourth  century. 
It  is  possible  that  through  intercourse  with  Christian  slaves  Seneca 
had  gained  some  knowledge  of  the  moral  teaching  of  the  gospel. 
But  the  evidence  of  a  direct  influence  from  the  Christian  side  we 

1  De  Vita  Beata,  24.  2  Ep.,  vii.  3  Ibid .,  xlvii. 

4  See  Lightfoot,  Dissertations  on  the  Apostolic  Age,  pp.  259  seq. 

6  Acts  xvii.  18.  6  Ibid.,  ver.  28.  7  Discourses,  iii.  22,  2  seq. 

8  Lightfoot,  Dissertations,  etc.,  p.  302,  n.  1.  See,  also,  N.  3. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  133 


must  not  exaggerate.  The  sayings  of  Seneca,  which  “  at  first  sight 
strike  us  by  their  resemblance  to  the  language  of  the  Apostles  and 
Evangelists,”  when  they  are  examined  in  their  connection  make 
a  different  impression.  His  most  striking  sentences  are  in  a  set¬ 
ting  quite  adverse  to  Christian  teaching.”  “  In  his  fundamental 
principles,  he  is  a  disciple  of  Zeno.”1 

It  is  a  question  how  far  this  widening  of  sympathy,  which  we  see 
in  Stoicism,  sprang  from  the  indirect  effect  of  gospel  teaching 
upon  the  general  currents  of  thought  outside  of  the  pale  of  the 
Church.  Without  denying  that  an  influence  of  the  character  de¬ 
scribed  was  felt  to  some  extent,  it  is  yet  possible  to  make  too 
much  of  such  a  modifying  agency.  It  is  an  evident  fact  that  the 
tendency  of  political  events  and  of  philosophic  thought  —  we  might 
say,  of  the  whole  course  of  history  —  had  been  conducive  to  a  more 
cosmopolitan  view,  a  more  catholic  sympathy.  The  soil  by  degrees 
was  becoming  ready  to  receive  the  good  seed  of  the  gospel.  The 
Stoic  conception  of  a  universal  city,  the  idea  of  a  common  country 
of  the  race,  are  conceptions  found  in  Roman  writers  from  the  time 
of  Cicero,  and,  along  with  them,  at  least  in  theory,  a  broader  spirit  of 
humanity.  For  an  explanation  of  phenomena  of  this  nature  we 
must  not  overlook  the  providential  development  within  the  con¬ 
fines  of  heathenism  itself.  Apart  from  Christian  influence,  they 
meet  us  in  Lucan,  in  Plutarch,  and  in  the  letters  of  the  younger 
Pliny.2 

When  we  bring  the  Stoical  philosophy  into  comparison  with 
Christianity,  we  discern  some  marked  characteristics  of  a  general 
nature  which  they  have  in  common.  First,  Stoicism  was  an  emi¬ 
nently  practical  system.  It  sought  to  determine  how  men  should 
live,  and  how  they  could  be  prepared  to  bear  trouble,  and  to  die 
with  composure.  Secondly,  like  Christianity,  it  exalted  inward,  or 
spiritual  excellence.  All  outward  things  are  counted  as  nothing. 
The  Stoic  held  power,  fame,  wealth,  even  health  and  life,  as  pos¬ 
sessions  to  be  resigned  without  a  murmur.  Independence,  inward 
freedom,  was  deemed  the  pearl  of  great  price.3  And  thirdly,  there 
are  certain  sayings,  and  there  are  special  injunctions,  some  of 

1  Lightfoot,  ibid.,  pp.  276  seq. 

2  See,  for  example,  his  Letter  on  the  death  of  his  slaves,  to  Paternus 
(viii.  16),  or  his  Letter  occasioned  by  the  death  of  the  daughter  of  Fundanus 
(v.  16). 

3  See  the  chapter  of  Epictetus  on  “  Freedom,”  Diss.,  iv.  1. 


134  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


which  have  been  cited,  in  which  the  expressions  of  Stoic  teachers 
approach  near  to  the  precepts  of  the  Christian  religion. 

The  differences  between  Stoicism  and  the  gospel  are  equally 
apparent.  The  resemblance  between  the  two  systems  is  seen,  on 
a  deeper  study,  to  be  more  superficial  than  one  would  expect,  and 
the  discordance  to  be  radical  in  its  character. 

1.  The  basis  of  Stoicism,  which  was  a  crass  materialism,  is 
inconsistent  with  personal  communion  with  God,  and  involves  the 
logical  consequences  of  Pantheism.  Seneca,  along  with  his  pious 
and  humane  expressions,  inconsistently  “  identifies  God  with  fate, 
with  necessity,  with  nature,  with  the  world  as  a  living  whole. 
Hence  he  speaks  of  the  Supreme  Deity,  under  the  designation 
“Jupiter,”  in  language  that  would  be  blasphemous  if  it  fell  from 
the  lips  of  a  Christian  theist.1 

2.  Stoicism  makes  virtue  the  ethical  end.  But  Christianity, 
while  giving  the  first  place  to  holiness,  is  not  indifferent  to  happi¬ 
ness.  Love,  the  essential  principle  in  Christian  morals,  is  itself  a 
source  of  joy,  and  seeks  the  happiness  of  its  object.  The  Cynics 
were  the  precursors  of  the  Stoics,  and  the  leaven  of  Cynicism  was 
never  wholly  expelled  from  the  Stoic  teaching.  We  find  when 

(we  scrutinize  the  Stoical  idea  of  virtue  that  it  is  practically  self- 
regarding.  It  is  not  the  good  of  others,  but  a  subjective  serenity, 
which  is  really  sought  for.  The  more  benevolent  feeling  in  the 
later  type  of  Stoicism  involves  only  a  partial  desertion  of  the 
essential  characteristics  of  the  school, 

3.  The  Stoic  definition virtue  is  formal,  not  material.  It 
gives  a  certain  relation  of  virtue,  but  not  its  contents.  What  that 
life  is  which  is  conformed  to  nature  and  swayed  by  reason,  is  not 
set  forth  in  the  definition. 

I  4.  We  are  furnished  with  no  concrete  or  exact  conception  of 
“  nature-”  “  Live  according  to  nature,”  we  are  told ;  but  no 

I  criterion  is  presented  for  distinguishing  between  the  original  nature 
of  man,  and  the  corruption  resulting  from  human  perversity  and 
sin.  It  is  remarkable  that  Seneca  acknowledges  the  need  of  a 
moral  ideal,  a  pattern  by  which  we  can  shape  our  conduct.  He 
advises  us  to  revolve  the  examples  of  good  men  and  heroes,  like 
Cato,  in  order  to  draw  from  them  guidance ;  though  he  admits 
their  imperfection  and  consequent  insufficiency  for  this  end.  It 
is  a  grand  distinction  of  Christianity  that  it  alone  supplies  this 
1  For  the  reference,  see  Lightfoot,  Dissertations ,  etc.,  pp.  277,  278. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  1 35 


need  by  presenting  human  nature,  the  realized  ideal,  in  its  purity 
and  perfection,  in  the  person  of  Christ. 

5.  Stoicism  supposes  a  possible  incompatibility  between  the 
welfare  of  the  individual  and  the  course  of  the  world.  It  implies 
a  discordance  in  nature,  which  is  in  violation  of  a  primary  assump¬ 
tion  that  the  system  is  harmonious.  For  the  Stoics  approved  of 
suicide.  Zeno  and  Cleanthes  destroyed  their  own  lives.  Seneca 
praises  Cato  for  killing  himself.  “  If  the  house  smokes,  go  out  of 
it,”  1  is  the  laconic  mode  of  advising  suicide  in  case  one  finds  his 
condition  unbearable  —  a  phrase  which  we  find  in  Epictetus  and 
Marcus  Aurelius.  There  might  be  situations,  it  was  held,  when  it 
is  undignified  or  dishonorable  to  continue  to  live.  Poverty,  chronic 
illness,  or  incipient  weakness  of  mind  were  deemed  a  sufficient 
reason  for  terminating  one’s  life.  It  was  the  means  of  baffling  a 
tyrant,  which  nature  had  given  to  the  weak ;  as  Cassius  is  made  to 
say :  — 

“  Life,  being  weary  of  these  worldly  bars, 

Never  lacks  power  to  dismiss  itself.”  2 

Seneca  says  that  a  man  may  choose  the  mode  of  his  death,  as 
one  chooses  a  ship  for  a  journey,  or  a  house  to  live  in.  Life 
and  death  are  among  the  adiaphora  —  things  indifferent,  which 
may  be  chosen  or  rejected  according  to  circumstances.  How 
contrary  is  all  this  to  the  Christian  feeling  !  The  Christian  be¬ 
lieves  in  a  Providence  which  makes  all  things  work  together  for 
his  good,  and  believes  that  there  are  no  circumstances  in  which  he 
is  authorized  to  lay  violent  hands  upon  himself.  There  is  no  sit¬ 
uation  in  which  he  cannot  live  with  honor,  and  with  advantage  to 
himself  as  long  as  God  chooses  to  continue  him  in  being. 
Hence,  in  the  Scriptures  there  is  no  express  prohibition  of 
suicide,  and  no  need  of  one. 

6.  Stoicism  exhibits  no  rational  ground  for  the  passive  virtues^ 
which  are  so  prominent  in  the  Stoic  morals.  There  is  no  rational 
end  of  the  cosmos,  no  grand  and  worthy  consummation  toward 
which  the  course  of  the  world  is  tending.  Evil  is  not  overruled  to 
subserve  a  higher  good  to  emerge  at  the  last.  There  is  no  inspir¬ 
ing  future  on  which  the  eye  of  the  sufferer  can  be  fixed.  The  goal 
that  bounds  his  vision  is  the  conflagration  of  all  things.  Hence 

1  Epictetus,  Discourses ,  I.  xxv.  18.  The  same  simile  is  frequently  used. 
Compare  Seneca,  Epp.,  xvii.,  xxiv.,  xxvi. 

2  Shakespeare,  Julius  Ccesar,  Act.  I.  sc.  i. 


136  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


there  is  no  basis  for  reconciliation  to  sorrow  and  evil.  Christianity, 
in  the  doctrine  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  furnishes  the  element 
which  Stoicism  lacked,  and  thus  provides  a  ground  for  resignation 
under  all  the  ills  of  life,  and  amid  the  confusion  and  wickedness  of 
the  world.  For  the  same  reason,  the  character  of  Christian  resig¬ 
nation  is  different  from  the  Stoic  composure.  It  is  submission  to 
a  wise  and  merciful  Father,  who  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning. 
Hence,  there  is  no  repression  of  natural  emotions,  as  of  grief  in 
case  of  bereavement ;  but  these  are  tempered,  and  prevented 
from  overmastering  the  spirit,  by  trust  in  the  Heavenly  Father. 
In  the  room  of  an  impassible  serenity,  an  apathy  secured  by 
stifling  natural  sensibility,  there  is  the  peace  which  flows  from  filial 
confidence. 

7.  Much  less  does  Stoicism  afford  a  logical  foundation  for  the 
active  virtues.  The  doctrine  of  fatalism,  if  consistently  carried 
out,  paralyzes  exertion.  And  how  is  the  motive  for  aggressive 
virtue  weakened,  when  the  ultimate  result  of  all  effort  is  annihila¬ 
tion  —  the  destruction  of  personal  life,  and  the  return  of  the  uni¬ 
verse  to  chaos ! 

8.  The  cosmopolitan  quality  of  Stoicism  was  negative.  Zeno’s 
idea  of  a  universal  community,  transcending  the  barriers  imposed 
by  separate  nationalities,  shows  that  the  ancient  order  of  things 
failed  to  satisfy  the  spirit,  aspiring  after  a  wider  communion.  Strik¬ 
ing  sentences  in  Seneca  1  indicate  that  the  limitations  essential  to 
ancient  thought,  which  knew  no  fellowship  broader  than  that  of  the 
State,  were  broken  through.  But  such  a  community  as  Zeno  and 
Seneca  dreamed  of,  did  not  and  could  not  arise,  until  the  kingdom 
of  Christ  was  established  on  earth.  Then  these  obscure  aspirations, 
and  grand  but  impracticable  visions,  became  a  reality. 

9.  The  predominant  motive  which  the  Stoic  moralists  present 
for  the  exercise  of  forbearance  and  the  kindred  virtues  is  not  love, 
but  rather  fealty  to  an  ideal  of  character,  the  theory  thapjjin  is  from 
ignorance,  and  is  involuntary,  which  turns  resentment  into  pity, 
and  the  consideration  that  everything  is  fated,  and,  in  its  place, 
useful.  The  offender  is  often  regarded  with  a  feeling  akin  to  dis¬ 
dain.  Among  the  ten  motives  to  forbearance  which  Marcus 
Aurelius  addresses  to  himself  are  some  on  which  Christianity 
also  insists.  The  sweeping  remark,  which  is  sometimes  heard 
from  the  pulpit,  that  the  duty  of  forgiving  injuries  was  not  known 

1  See  De  Benef .,  iii.  18. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  137 


to  the  heathen  moralists,  is  not  true.  Clemency  is  an  impulse  of 
human  nature  as  truly  as  resentment.  Christianity  introduced  no 
new  element  into  the  constitution  of  the  soul.  It  gave  fresh  mo¬ 
tives  for  the  exercise  of  forbearance,  and,  by  its  power  to  conquer 
selfishness,  imparted  to  the  benevolent  sentiments  a  control  which 
had  never  belonged  to  them  before.  It  is  likewise  evident  that 
the  false  metaphysics  of  the  Stoic  school  played  an  important  part 
in  producing  the  temper  of  forbearance  which  they  inculcated.  Sin 
is  ignorance,  sin  is  fated,  sin  is  for  the  best,  anger  disturbs  the 
peace  of  the  soul,  —  these  are  prominent  among  the  reasons  for 
the  exercise  of  forbearance.1 

10.  The  self-sufficiency  of  Stoicism  stands  in  direct  antagonism 
to  Christian  humility.  The  independence  of  the  individual,  the 
power  to  stand  alone  as  regards  men  and  the  gods,  is  the  acme  of 
Stoical  attainment.  The  Stoic  felt  himself  on  the  level  of  Zeus, 
both  being  subject  to  fate ;  and  he  aimed  to  find  the  sources  of 
strength  and  peace  within  himself.  Christianity,  on  the  contrary, 
finds  the  highest  good  in  the  complete  fellowship  of  man,  sensible 
of  his  absolute  dependence,  with  God.  The  starting-point  is 
humility,  a  feeling  the  antipode  of  Stoical  pride  and  self-asser¬ 
tion.  It  is  a  noteworthy  but  not  inexplicable  fact,  that  while 
many  from  the  Platonic  school,  in  the  first  centuries,  became j 
Christian  disciples,  very  few  Stoics  embraced  the  Gospel.  Not¬ 
withstanding  the  points  indicative  of  resemblance  and  affinity, 
there  was  a  radical  antagonism  between  the  two  systems. 

The  Greek  philosophy  reached  the  limit  of  its  development  in 
New  Platonism,  as  taught  in  the  first  centuries  of  the  Christian  era 
by  Plotinus,  and  his  successors,  Porphyry  and  Jamblichus,  and  by 
Proclus,  the  last  eminent  representative  of  this  school.2  Scepti¬ 
cism,  the  consequence  of  the  bewildering  conflict  of  philosophical 
theories,  left  no  resting-place  for  minds  of  a  religious  turn.  Their 
natural  refuge  was  in  mysticism,  where  feeling  and  intuition  super¬ 
sede  the  slow  and  doubtful  processes  of  the  intellect.  Plotinus 
found  in  -Platonism  the  starting-point  and  principal  materials  for 
his  speculations ;  although  the  reconciliation  of  philosophies,  and 
especially  of  the  two  masters,  Plato  and  Aristotle,  was  a  prominent 
part  of  his  effort. 

1  See  Epictetus,  Discourses,  IV.  v.  32. 

2  Plotinus  was  born  a.d.  204,  and  died  A.D.  269. 


138  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


With  Plotinus,  the  absolute  Being,  the  antecedent  of  all  that 
exists,  is  impersonal,  the  ineffable  unity,  exalted  above  all  vicissi¬ 
tude  and  change.  The  idea  of  a  creative  activity  on  the  part  of 
God  is  thus  excluded.  Emanation,  after  a  Pantheistic  conception, 
would  seem  to  be  the  method  by  which  the  universe  originates 
from  the  primary  being ;  yet  this  notion  is  discarded,  since  it 
would  imply  division  in  this  being,  and  the  imparting  of  a  portion 
of  its  contents.  Matter  is  evil,  and  the  original  fountain  of  evil. 
The  human  soul  finds  its  purification  only  in  separating  itself  from 
the  material  part  with  which  it  here  stands  in  connection.  The 
highest  attainment  and  perfect  blessedness  lie  in  the  ecstatic  con¬ 
dition,  in  which  the  soul  rises  to  the  intuition  and  embrace  of  the 
Supreme  Entity,  sinking  for  the  time  its  own  individuality  in  this 
rapturous  union  with  the  Infinite. 

While  the  Platonic  idea  of  resemblance  to  God,  as  the  life  and 
soul  of  virtue,  is  held  in  form,  its  practical  value  is  lost  by  this 
sacrifice  of  personality  in  the  object  toward  which  we  are  to 
aspire.  The  “  civil  virtues  ”  —  wisdom,  courage,  temperance,  and 
justice  —  are  retained;  but  higher  than  these  are  placed  the  puri¬ 
fying  or  cathartic  virtues,  by  which  the  soul  emancipates  itself 
from  subjection  to  sense;  while  the  highest  achievement  is  the 
elevation  to  God,  where  the  consciousness  of  personal  identity  is 
drowned  in  the  beatific  contemplation  of  the  Supreme. 

This  kind  of  rapture  is  possible  only  to  elect  spirits,  who  are 
qualified  by  superior  endowments  for  so  lofty  an  ascent.  The 
supercilious  tone  of  the  ancient  philosophy,  the  notion  of  an  oli¬ 
garchy  of  philosophers,  to  whom  the  common  herd  are  subservient, 
is  thus  maintained  to  the  full  in  this  final  phase  of  Greek  thought. 
“The  life  which  is  merely  human,”  says  Plotinus,  “is  twofold, 
the  one  being  mindful  of  virtue  and  partaking  of  a  certain  good ; 
but  the  other  pertaining  to  the  vile  rabble,  and  to  artificers  who 
minister  to  the  necessities  of  more  worthy  men.”1  Asceticism  . 
was  the  natural  offspring  of  a  system  in  which  all  that  is  corporeal 
is  evil.  Superstition,  especially  in  the  form  of  magic  and  sorcery, 
was  likewise  conspicuous  in  Jamblichus,  and  in  the  other  later 
devotees  of  this  school. 

Christianity  holds  to  a  possible  illumination  of  the  human  mind, 
and  to  a  blessed  communion  with  God.  But  this  is  not  a  boon 
open  only  to  a  few  who  are  raised  intellectually  above  the  rest  of 

1  Enn.,  ii.  9. 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  139 


mankind.  The  egoistic  absorption  of  the  individual  in  his  own 
mental  states,  where  the  idea  of  doing  good  is  banished  from 
thought,  or  supplanted  by  a  contempt  for  mankind  generally,  is 
abhorrent  to  the  spirit  of  the  gospel.  Self-purification  is  an 
end  which  the  Christian  sets  before  him ;  but  he  pursues  it,  not 
in  the  way  of  mystic  contemplation,  but  by  the  daily  practice  of 
all  the  virtues  of  character.1 

What  were  the  actual  resources  of  philosophy?  What  power 
had  it  to  assuage  grief,  to  qualify  the  soul  for  the  exigencies 
of  life,  and  to  deliver  it  from  the  fear  of  death?  An  instructive 
answer  to  this  inquiry  may  be  gathered  from  the  works  of  Cicero. 
Humanity,  in  the  sense  of  a  philanthropic  regard  for  the  race,  is 
a  word  frequently  upon  his  lips.  In  his  political  course,  how¬ 
ever,  and  in  dealing  with  ethical  questions  in  the  concrete,  Cicero 
too  often  failed  to  exemplify  these  liberal  maxims.  There  is  a 
like  failure  to  realize  practically  his  religious  theories.  He  appro¬ 
priates  not  without  sympathy  whatever  is  best  in  the  Greek  philo¬ 
sophical  writers  before  him.  In  his  work  on  the  Nature  of  the 
Gods,  and  in  that  on  Divination,  he  shows  the  folly  of  polytheism, 
and  of  the  cultus  connected  with  it.  He  wishes  that  it  were  as 
easy  to  discover  the  truth  as  to  confute  error.'2  He  is  a  Theist, 
preferring  to  follow  Plato  in  the  belief  in  a  personal  God,  rather 
than  the  Stoics  in  their  dogma  of  the  impersonal  spirit  of  nature.  I 
He  finds  in  the  wonderful  order  of  the  world  irresistible  evidence 
of  the  supreme  Mind.  He  sees  a  corroboration  of  this  faith  in 
the  concurrent  judgments  of  men,  as  evinced  in  the  universal 
prevalence  of  religion.  Equally  strenuous  is  he  in  maintaining 
that  the  soul  is  immaterial  and  immortal.3  But  we  have  the 
opportunity  of  testing  the  character  of  his  convictions  when  he 
is  brought  into  circumstances  of  keen  distress.  What  was  the 
practical  force  and  value  of  these  opinions?  We  can  see  from 
the  Tusculan  Discussions  which  he  composed  when  he  was  sixty- 
two  years  of  age,  after  the  death  of  his  beloved  daughter  Tullia, 
and  from  his  correspondence  after  this  blow  with  Servius  Sulpicius. 
When  he  is  himself  plunged  into  affliction,  we  find  that  neither 


1  This  difference  is  clearly  set  forth  by  Neander  (  Wissenschaftl .  Abhandl., 
p.  213),  in  an  essay  to  which  the  present  writer  owes  the  early  stimulus  given 
to  the  study  of  the  subject  of  this  chapter. 

2  De  Nat.  Deomm ,  i.  32. 

3  E.g.  Disp.  Ttisc.,  I.  xxvii.,  xxviii. 


140  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


he  nor  his  intimate  friends  who  strive  to  console  him  think  of 
the  truths  on  which  he  has  eloquently  descanted.  There  is  a 
striking  contrast  between  the  discourses  composed  for  the  public 
eye,  and  the  familiar  letters  which  passed  between  him  and  these 
friends.  In  neither  of  his  letters  to  Sulpicius  is  there  the  slightest 
reference  to  God,  or  to  a  future  life.  Cicero’s  treatise  on  Old 
Age  is  another  monument  of  the  vain  attempt  to  elevate  consid¬ 
erations  which,  when  merely  subordinate  and  auxiliary,  have  their 
value,  into  prime  sources  of  consolation.  The  doctrine  of  the 
future  life,  even  in  Plutarch,  is  not  set  forth  as  a  firm  conviction, 
but  only  as  a  probability;  and  he  makes  an  argument  in  behalf 
of  serenity,  on  the  hypothesis,  which  is  admitted  to  be  not  abso¬ 
lutely  disproved,  that  death  is  the  dissipation  of  our  being,  and 
the  termination,  therefore,  of  pain  as  well  as  of  joy.  The  Stoic 
element  which  mingled  in  the  character  of  Socrates,  an  element 
which  is  quite  discernible  in  Plato’s  account  of  his  Apology  to  his 
judges,  crops  out  occasionally  in  the  Platonic  Dialogues,  though 
connected  with  other  tenets  not  consonant  with  the  Stoical 
system. 

In  Cicero’s  time,  and  in  the  century  that  followed,  faith  in  the 
immortality  of  the  soul  is  mostly  confined  to  minds  imbued  with 
the  Platonic  influence.  Julius  Caesar  treated  the  idea  of  a  survival 
of  the  soul  as  a  chimera.1  Tacitus,  in  the  beautiful  passage  at  the 
close  of  the  Life  of  Agricola ,  refers  to  the  opinion  of  philoso¬ 
phers  that  exalted  souls  may  survive  the  body,  but  treats  it 
as  only  a  possibility. 

Philosophy  yielded  a  certain  amount  of  strength  and  solace  to 
able  and  cultivated  men ;  an  increased  amount,  we  may  say, 
among  the  Romans,  in  the  second  century  as  compared  with  the 
age  that  witnessed  the  introduction  of  Christianity.  Philosophers 
sometimes  acted,  from  their  point  of  view,  not  unworthily  the  part 
of  spiritual  counsellors.  The  Stoics  looked  forward  to  a  continu¬ 
ance  for  an  indefinite,  though  limited,  period,  of  personal  life 
beyond  the  grave.  Platonists  may  not  frequently  have  cherished 
a  larger  hope.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that  philosophy 
exerted  no  appreciable  influence  on  the  mass  of  mankind,  either 
in  the  way  of  restraint  or  of  inspiration.  They  were  left  in  the 
adversities  of  life,  in  sickness,  in  bereavement,  and  in  death,  to 
such  consolation  as  was  to  be  drawn  from  the  old  mythological 

1  Sallust  (b.c.  50). 


ETHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  TEACHING  OF  CHRISTIANITY  14 1 


system.  The  epitaphs  in  memory  of  the  dead  in  some  cases 
betray  a  gross  materialism,  in  other  cases  a  bitter  and  resentful 
despair ;  while  many  express  a  hope  in  behalf  of  the  beloved  who 
are  gone,  which  is  slow  to  be  quenched  in  the  human  heart. 

When  we  look  back  upon  the  ancient  philosophy  in  its  entire 
course,  we  find  in  it  nothing  nearer  to  Christianity  than  the  saying 
of  Plato  that  man  is  to  resemble  God.  But,  on  the  path  of  specu¬ 
lation,  how  defective  and  discordant  are  the  conceptions  of  God  ! 
And  if  God  were  adequately  known,  how  shall  the  fetters  of  evil  be 
broken,  and  the  soul  attain  to  its  ideal?  It  is  just  these  questions 
that  Christianity  meets  through  the  revelation  of  God  in  Jesus 
Christ.  God,  the  Head  of  that  universal  society  on  which  Cicero 
delighted  to  dwell,  and  ruling  with  no  divided  control,  is  brought, 
in  all  His  holiness  and  love,  near  to  the  apprehension  and  to  the 
hearts,  not  of  a  coterie  of  philosophers  merely,  but  of  the  humble 
and  ignorant.  The  words  of  Jesus,  spoken  of  the  Hebrew  Law¬ 
givers  and  Prophets,  are  applicable  to  the  best  of  the  Stoic  Sages, 
and  to  Plato  —  unconscious  though  they  were  of  their  intermediary 
function  —  “  I  am  not  come  to  destroy  but  to  fulfil.”  There  is  a 
real  release  from  the  burden  of  evil,  achieved  through  Christ, 
actually  for  himself  in  his  own  spotless  purity,  and  potentially 
for  mankind.  How  transfigured  in  their  whole  character  are 
the  ethical  maxims  which,  as  to  form,  may  not  be  without  a 
parallel  in  heathen  sages  !  Forgiveness,  forbearance,  pity  for  the 
poor,  universal  compassion,  are  no  longer  abstractions,  derived 
from  speculation  on  the  attributes  of  Deity.  They  shine  out  in 
the  example  of  God.  He  has  so  dealt  with  us  in  the  mission  and 
death  of  His  Son.1  The  Cross  of  Christ  was  the  practical  power 
that  abolished  artificial  distinctions  among  mankind,  and  made 
human  brotherhood  a  reality.  In  this  new  setting,  ethical  pre¬ 
cepts  gain  a  depth  of  earnestness  and  a  force  of  impression  which 
ethnic  philosophy  could  never  impart.  We  might  as  well  expect 
from  starlight  the  brightness  and  warmth  of  a  noonday  sun. 

1  See  Col.  iii.  12;  Eph.  iv.  32;  1  Pet.  ii.  18;  2  Cor.  x.  1;  Luke  xxii.  27; 
John  xiii.  14  ;  1  John  iii.  16  ;  2  Cor.  viii.  9  ;  Eph.  v.  2  ;  Phil.  ii.  7  ;  and  the 
New  Testament  passim. 


CHAPTER  VII 


THE  CONSCIOUSNESS  IN  JESUS  OF  A  SUPERNATURAL  CALLING  RENDERED 

CREDIBLE  BY  HIS  SINLESS  CHARACTER 

Writers  on  the  evidences  of  Christianity,  after  some  introduc¬ 
tory  observations  on  natural  theology,  generally  take  up  at  once 
the  subject  of  the  genuineness  and  credibility  of  the  Gospels, 
for  the  obvious  reason  that  in  these  books,  if  anywhere,  is  preserved 
the  authentic  testimony  to  the  facts  connected  with  the  life  of 
Jesus.  There  are  reasons,  however,  of  special  weight  at  present, 
why  this  leading  topic  may  well  be  deferred  to  a  somewhat  later 
stage  of  the  discussion.  Notwithstanding  differences  of  opinion 
respecting  the  authorship  and  date  of  the  New  Testament  narra¬ 
tives,  there  are  not  wanting  grounds  for  accepting  as  true  the  es¬ 
sential  facts  which  form  the  basis  of  the  Christian  faith.  It  is 
important  to  remember,  that  besides  these  books,  there  exist 
other  memorials,  written  and  unwritten,  of  the  events  with  which 
we  are  concerned.  We  have  St.  Paul’s  Epistles,  —  the  most  promi¬ 
nent  of  which  are  not  contested  even  by  the  most  sceptically 
disposed,  —  the  oldest  of  which,  probably,  the  first  to  the  Thesz 
salonians,  was  written  certainly  as  early  as  the  year  53.  But,  more 
than  this,  there  are  cogent  proofs,  and  there  are  stfong  probabil¬ 
ities  which  may  be  gathered  from  known  and  admitted  conse¬ 
quences  of  the  life  of  Jesus  among  men.  We  can  reason  backwards. 
Even  a  cursory  glance  at  Christianity  in  the  course  of  its  acknowl¬ 
edged  history,  and  as  an  existing  phenomenon  standing  before  the 
eyes  of  all,  is  enough  to  convince  everybody  that  something  very 
weighty  and  momentous  took  place  in  Palestine  in  connection  with 
the  short  career  of  Jesus.  There  followed,  for  example,  indisput¬ 
ably,  the  preaching,  the  character,  the  martyrdom,  of  Apostles 
appointed  by  him.  The  Church  started  into  being.  The  com¬ 
position  of  the  Gospels  themselves,  whenever  and  by  whomsoever 
it  occurred,  was  an  effect  traceable  ultimately  to  the  life  of  Jesus. 

142 


JESUS  CONSCIOUS  OF  HIS  DIVINE  MISSION 


143 


How  came  they  to  be  written?  How  did  what  they  relate  of  him 
come  to  be  believed?  How  came  miracles  to  be  attributed  to 
him,  and  not  to  John  the  Baptist  and  to  Palestinian  rabbis  of  the 
time?  Effects  imply  adequate  causes.  A  pool  of  water  in  the 
street  may  be  explained  by  a  summer  shower,  but  not  so  the  Gulf 
Stream.  Effects  imply  such  causes  as  are  adapted  to  produce 
them.  The  results  of  a  movement  disclose  its  nature.  When  we 
are  confronted  by  historical  phenomena,  complex  and  far-reaching 
in  their  character,  we  find  that  no  solution  will  hold  which  subtracts 
anything  essential  from  the  actual  historic  antecedents.  If  we 
eliminate  any  of  the  conjoined  causes,  we  find  that  something  in 
the  aggregate  effect  is  left  unexplained.  Moreover,  the  elements 
that  compose  a  state  of  things  which  gives  rise  to  definite  histori¬ 
cal  consequences  are  braided  together.  They  do  not  easily  allow 
themselves  to  be  disconnected  from  one  another.  Pry  out  one 
stone  from  an  arch,  and  the  entire  structure  will  fall.  It  is  a  prov¬ 
erb  that  a  liar  must  have  a  long  memory.  It  is  equally  true  that 
an  historical  critic  exposes  himself  to  peril  whenever  he  ventures 
on  the  task  of  constructing  a  situation  in  the  past,  a  combination 
of  circumstances,  materially  diverse  from  the  reality.  Events  as 
they  actually  occur  constitute  a  web  from  which  no  part  can  be 
torn  without  being  instantly  missed.  History,  then,  has  a  double 
verification ;  first,  in  the  palpable  effects  that  are  open  to  every¬ 
body’s  inspection ;  and  secondly,  in  the  connected  relation,  the 
internal  cohesion,  of  the  particulars  that  compose  the  scene.  Let 
any  one  try  the  experiment  of  subtracting  from  the  world’s  history 
any  signal  event,  like  the  battle  of  Marathon,  the  teaching  of  Aris¬ 
totle,  or  the  usurpation  of  Julius  Caesar.  He  will  soon  be  convinced 
of  the  futility  of  the  attempt ;  and  this  apart  from  the  violence  that 
must  be  done  to  direct  historical  testimonies. 

Matthew  Arnold  tells  us,  that  “  there  is  no  evidence  of  the 
establishment  of  our  four  Gospels  as  a  gospel  canon,  or  even  of 
their  existence  as  they  now  finally  stand  at  all,  before  the  last 
quarter  of  the  second  century.”1  This  statement  in  both  of  its 
parts  needs  correction.  The  theory  at  the  basis  of  such  views,  of 
a  gradual  selection  of  the  four  out  of  a  large  group  of  competitive 
Gospels,  and  of  the  growth  of  them  by  a  slow  process  of  accretion, 
is  untenable.  It  can  be  proved  to  rest  on  a  misconception  of  the 
state  of  things  in  the  early  Church,  and  to  be  open  to  other  insu- 

1  God  and  the  Bible ,  p.  224. 


144  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

perable  objections.  But  let  the  assumption  contained  in  the  quo¬ 
tation  above  be  allowed,  for  the  present,  to  stand.  Such  authors 
as  Strauss,  Renan,  Keim,  notwithstanding  their  rejection  of  re¬ 
ceived  opinions  respecting  the  authorship  and  date  of  the  Gospels, 
do  not  hesitate  to  draw  from  them  the  materials  for  their  biogra¬ 
phies  of  Jesus.  They  undertake,  to  be  sure,  to  subject  them  to  a 
sifting  process.  We  have  to  complain  that  their  dissection  is  too 
often  arbitrary,  being  dictated  by  some  presupposition  merely  sub¬ 
jective,  or  determined  by  the  exigencies  of  a  theory.  Professing 
to  be  scientific,  they  are  warped  by  what  is  really  an  unscientific 
bias.  But  large  portions  of  the  evangelic  narratives  they  hold  to 
be  authentic.  If  they  did  not  do  this,  they  would  have  to  lay 
down  the  pen.  Their  vocation  as  historians  would  be  gone. 
We  may  inquire  then  what  will  follow,  if  we  take  for  granted  no 
more  of  the  contents  of  the  Gospels  than  what  is  conceded  to  be 
true,  —  no  more,  at  any  rate,  than  what  can  be  proved  on  the  spot 
to  be  veritable  history.  Waiving,  for  the  moment,  —  as  we  have 
done  in  the  foregoing  pages,  —  controverted  questions  about  the 
origin  of  these  books,  let  us  see  what  conclusions  can  be  fairly 
deduced  from  portions  of  them  which  no  rational  critic  will  con¬ 
sider  fictitious.  Having  proceeded  as  far  as  we  may  on  this  path, 
it  will  then  be  in  order  to  inquire  whether  the  Gospels  are  not  to 
be  classed  in  the  list  of  genuine  and  trustworthy  narratives,  in 
opposition  to  the  opinion  that  they  are  of  later  origin,  and  com¬ 
pounded  of  fact  and  fiction., 

I.  The  known  assertions  of  Jesus  respecting  his  calling,  and 
his  authority  among  men,  if  they  are  not  well  founded,  imply 
either  a  lack  of  mental  sanity,  or  a  deep  perversion  of  char¬ 
acter  ;  but  neither  of  these  last  alternatives  can  be  reasonably 
accepted. 

No  one  can  reasonably  doubt  that  Jesus  professed  Jto  be  the 
Christ  —  the  Messiah.  The  time  and  manner  of  making  this 
declaration  can  be  considered  hereafter.  This  the  apostles  from 
the  first,  in  their  preaching,  declared  him  to  be.  They  went  out 
preaching,  first  of  all,  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  the  Messiah.  It 
was  on  account  of  this  claim  that  he  was  put  to  death.  Before 
his  judges,  Jewish  and  Roman,  he  for  the  most  part  kept  silent. 
Seeing  that  they  were  blinded  by  passion,  or  swayed  by  purely 
selfish  motives,  he  abstained  from  useless  appeals  to  reason  and 
conscience.  But  he  broke  silence  to  avow  that  he  was  indeed 


JESUS  CONSCIOUS  OF  HIS  DIVINE  MISSION 


145 


the  king,  the  “  Son  of  God,”  —  a  title  of  the  Messiah.1  It  was 
held  by  the  Jewish  magistrates  to  be  a  blasphemous  pretension.2 
He  made  it  clear,  then  and  at  other  times,  what  sort  of  a  kingship 
it  was  which  he  asserted  for  himself.  It  was  not  a  temporal  sov¬ 
ereignty,  “  a  kingdom  of  this  world  ” ;  no  force  was  to  be  used  in 
the  founding  or  extension  of  it.  It  was,  however,  a  control  far 
deeper  and  wider  than  any  secular  rule.  He  was  the  monarch  of 
souls.  His  right  was  derived  immediately  from  God.  His  legis¬ 
lation  reached  down  to  the  inmost  motives  of  action,  and  covered 
in  its  comprehensive  principles  all  the  particulars  of  conduct.  In 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  he  spoke  with  an  authority  which  was 
expressly  contrasted  with  that  of  all  previous  lawgivers  counted  to 
be  inspired  by  those  who  heard  Him  —  “  But  /  say  unto  you,”  etc.3 
To  his  precepts  he  annexed  penalties  and  rewards  which  were  to 
be  endured  and  received  even  beyond  the  grave.  Nay,  his  call 
was  to  all  to  come  to  him,  to  repose  in  him  implicit  trust  as  a 
moral  and  religious  guide.  He  laid  claim  to  the  absolute  alle¬ 
giance  of  every  soul.  To  those  who  complied  he  promised  blessed¬ 
ness  in  the  life  to  come.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  assumed 
to  exercise  the  prerogative  of  pardoning  sin.  Apart  from  declara¬ 
tions,  uttered  in  an  authoritative  tone,  of  the  terms  on  which  God 
would  forgive  sin,4  he  assured  particular  individuals  of  the  pardon 
of  their  transgressions.  He  taught  that  his  death  stood  in  the  closest 
relation  to  the  remission  of  sins  by  the  judge  of  all  the  earth.  The 
divine  clemency  toward  the  sinful  is  somehow  linked  to  it.  He 
founded  a  rite  on  this  efficacy  of  his  death,  —  a  part  of  his  teaching 
which  is  not  only  recorded  by  three  of  the  gospel  writers,  but  is  fur¬ 
ther  placed  beyond  doubt  by  the  testimony  of  the  apostle  Paul.5  He 
uttered,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt,  the  largest  predictions  con¬ 
cerning  the  spread  of  his  spiritual  empire.  It  was  to  have  the 
transforming  power  of  leaven.  It  was  to  be  like  the  plant  which 
springs  from  the  tiny  mustard-seed.6  The  agency  of  God  would 
be  directed  to  securing  its  progress  and  triumph.  The  Providen¬ 
tial  government  of  the  world  would  be  shaped  with  reference  to 
this  end. 

1  Matt.  xxvi.  64,  xxvii.  1 1,  cf.  vers.  29,  37;  Mark  xiv.  62,  xv.  2,  cf.  vers.  9, 

12,  18,  26  ;  Luke  xxii.  70,  xxiii.  2,  cf.  vers.  2,  38  ;  John  xviii.  33,  37,  cf.  ver. 
39,  xix.  3,  14,  19,  21.  2  Matt.  xxvi.  65  ;  Mark  xiv.  64. 

3  Matt.  v.  22,  28,  34,  39,  44.  5  1  Cor.  xi.  25. 

4 Ibid.,  v.  26,  vi.  14,  15.  6  Matt.  xiii.  31-33  ;  Luke  xiii.  19-21. 

L 


146  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


We  have  stated  in  moderate  terms  the  claims  put  forth  by  Jesus. 
These  statements,  or  their  equivalent,  enter  into  the  core  of  the 
evangelic  tradition.  Not  only  are  they  admitted  to  be  authen¬ 
tic  passages  in  the  Gospels,  but  their  historic  reality  is  presup¬ 
posed  in  the  first  teaching  of  Christianity  by  the  Apostles,  and 
must  be  assumed  in  order  to  account  for  the  rise  of  the  Church. 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  these  pretensions  are  put  forth  by  a 
person  with  no  advantages  of  social  position.  He  is  brought  up 
in  a  village  not  held  in  esteem  by  the  religious  leaders  of  the  time. 
On  his  fellow-villagers  generally  he  has  made  no  lasting  impres¬ 
sion.  He  has  barely  passed  the  limit  of  youth.  When  he  appears 
among  them  as  a  teacher,  they  refer  to  his  connection  with  a  family 
in  the  midst  of  them  in  a  tone  to  imply  that  they  had  known  of 
nothing  to  kindle  a  remarkable  expectation  concerning  him.1 
For  this  passage  in  the  Gospel  narrative  bears  indisputable  marks 
of  authenticity. 

What  shall  be  said  of  such  claims,  put  forth  by  such  a  person, 
or  by  any  human  being?  No  doubt  the  first  impression  in  such  a 
case  would  be,  that  he  had  lost  his  reason.  If  there  is  not  wilful  im¬ 
posture,  it  would  be  said,  it  must  be  a  case  of  mental  derangement. 
Nothing  else  can  explain  so  monstrous  a  delusion.  Imagine  that  a 
young  man  who  has  always  lived  quietly  at  home  in  a  country  town 
presents  himself  in  one  of  our  large  cities,  and  announces  himself 
there,  and  to  his  fellow-townsmen,  and  wherever  else  he  can  gain 
a  hearing,  as  the  representative  of  God ;  summons  all,  the  high 
and  low,  the  educated  and  ignorant,  to  accept  him  as  a  special 
messenger  from  Heaven,  to  obey  him  implicitly,  to  break  every 
tie  which  interferes  with  absolute  obedience  to  him,  —  to  hate,  as 
it  were,  father  and  mother,  wife  and  children,  for  his  cause.  He 
proceeds,  we  will  suppose,  in  the  name  of  God,  to  issue  injunc¬ 
tions  for  the  regulation  of  the  thoughts  even,  as  well  as  of  external 
conduct,  to  forgive  the  sins  of  one  and  another  evil-doer,  and  to 
warn  all  who  disbelieve  in  him  and  disregard  his  commandments, 
that  retribution  awaits  them  in  the  future  life.  It  being  made 
clear  that  he  is  not  an  impostor,  the  inference  would  be  drawn  at 
once  that  his  reason  is  unsettled.  This,  in  fact,  is  the  common 
judgment  in  such  cases.  To  entertain  the  belief  that  one  is  the 
Messiah  is  a  recognized  species  of  insanity.  It  is  taken  as  proof 
positive  of  mental  aberration.  This  is  the  verdict  of  the  courts. 

1  Matt.  xiii.  55-57;  Mark  vi.  3,  4;  Luke  iv.  22. 


JESUS  CONSCIOUS  OF  HIS  DIVINE  MISSION 


147 


Erskine,  the  famous  Scottish  lawyer,  in  one  of  his  celebrated 
speeches,1  adverts  to  an  instance  of  this  kind  of  lunacy.  A  man 
who  had  been  confined  in  a  mad-house  prosecuted  the  keeper,  Dr. 
Sims,  and  his  own  brother,  for  unlawful  detention.  Erskine,  be¬ 
fore  he  had  been  informed  of  the  precise  nature  of  his  delusion, 
examined  the  prosecutor  without  eliciting  any  signs  of  mental 
unsoundness.  At  length,  learning  what  the  particular  character  of 
the  mental  disorder  was,  the  great  lawyer,  with  affected  reverence, 
apologized  for  his  unbecoming  treatment  of  the  witness  in  pre¬ 
suming  thus  to  interrogate  him.  The  man  expressed  his  forgive¬ 
ness,  and  then,  with  the  utmost  gravity,  in  the  face  of  the  whole 
court,  said,  “  I  am  the  Christ  !  ”  He  deemed  himself  “  the  Lord 
and  Saviour  of  mankind.”  Nothing  further,  of  course,  was  re¬ 
quired  for  the  acquittal  of  the  persons  charged  with  unjustly 
confining  him. 

When  it  is  said  that  claims  like  those  of  Jesus,  unless  they  can 
be  sustained,  are  indicative  of  mental  derangement,  we  may  be 
pointed,  by  way  of  objection,  to  founders  of  other  systems  of  re¬ 
ligion.  But  among  these  no  parallel  instance  can  be  adduced  to 
disprove  the  position  here  taken.  Confucius  can  hardly  be  styled 
a  religious  teacher  ;  he  avoided,  as  far  as  he  could,  all  reference 
to  the  supernatural.  Llis  wisdom  was  of  man,  and  professed  no 
higher  origin.  A  sage,  a  sagacious  moralist,  he  is  not  to  be  clas¬ 
sified  with  pretenders  to  divine  illumination.  Of  Zoroaster  we 
know  so  little,  that  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  tell  what  he  affirmed 
respecting  his  relation  to  God.  The  very  date  of  his  birth  is  now 
set  back  by  scholars  to  a  point  at  least  five  hundred  years  earlier 
than  the  time  previously  assigned  for  it.  Of  him,  one  of  the 
authorities  remarks,  “The  events  of  his  life  are  almost  all  en¬ 
shrouded  in  darkness,  to  dispel  which  will  be  forever  impossible, 
should  no  authentic  historical  records  be  discovered  in  Bactria, 
his  home.” 2  A  still  later  writer  goes  farther  :  “  When  he  lived, 
no  one  knows ;  and  every  one  agrees  that  all  that  the  Parsis  and 
the  Greeks  tell  of  him  is  mere  legend,  through  which  no  solid  his¬ 
torical  facts  can  be  arrived  at.”3  Thus  the  history  of  the  princi- 

1  In  behalf  of  Hadfield,  indicted  for  firing  a  pistol  at  the  king. 

2  Haug,  Essays  on  the  Laws,  Writings,  and  Religion  of  the  Parsis  (2d  ed., 
Boston,  1868),  p.  295. 

3  The  Zend-Avesta ,  translated  by  J.  Darmesteter  (Oxford,  1880),  Intr.,  p. 
lxxvi. 


148  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


1 


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pal  teacher  of  one  of  the  purest  and  most  ancient  of  the  ethnic 
religions  is  veiled  in  hopeless  obscurity.  With  respect  to  Buddha, 
or  Sakyamuni,  it  is  not  impossible  to  separate  main  facts  in  his 
career  from  the  mass  of  legendary  matter  which  has  accumulated 
about  them.  But  the  office  which  he  took  on  himself  was  not 
even  that  of  a  prophet.  He  was  a  philanthropist,  a  reformer. 
The  supernatural  features  of  his  history  have  been  grafted  upon  it 
by  later  generations.  An  able  scholar  has  described  Buddhism 
as  “  a  religion  which  ignores  the  existence  of  God,  and  denies  the 
existence  of  the  soul.”  1  “  Buddhism  is  no  religion  at  all,  and  cer- 

.  tainly  no  theology,  but  rather  a  system  of  duty,  morality,  and  be¬ 
nevolence,  without  real  deity,  prayer,  or  priest,” 2  ^obajnmed_ 
unquestionably  believed  himself  inspired,  and  clothed  with  a  di¬ 
vine  commission.  Beyond  the  ferment  excited  in  his  mind  by  the 
vivid  perception  of  a  single  great,  half-forgotten  truth,  we  are  aided 
in  explaining  his  self-delusion,  as  far  as  it  was  a  delusion,  by  due 
attention  to  morbid  constitutional  tendencies  which  occasioned 
epileptic  fits,  as  well  as  to  reveries  and  trances.  Moreover,  there 
were  vices  of  character  which  played  an  important  part  in  nour¬ 
ishing  his  fanatical  convictions.  These  must  be  taken  into  the 
account.  It  is  not  maintained  here  that  religious  enthusiasm 
which  passes  the  limits  of  truth  should  always  raise  a  suspicion  of 
insanity.  We  are  not  called  upon  by  the  necessities  of  the  argu¬ 
ment  to  point  out  the  boundary-line  where  reason  is-  unhinged. 
Socrates  was  persuaded  that  a  demon  or  spirit  within  kept  him 
back  from  unwise  actions.  Whether  right  or  wrong  in  this  belief, 
he  was  no  doubt  a  man  of  sound  mind.  One  may  erroneously 
conceive  himself  to  be  under  supernatural  guidance  without  being 
literally  irrational.  But  if  Socrates,  a  mortal  like  the  men  about 
him,  had  solemnly  and  persistently  declared  himself  to  be  the 
chosen  delegate  of  the  Almighty,  and  to  have  the  authority  and 
the  prerogatives  which  Jesus  claimed  for  himself ;  had  he  declared, 
just  before  drinking  the  hemlock,  that  his  death  was  the  means  or 
the  guaranty  of  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  —  the  sanity  of  his  mind 
would  not  have  been  so  clear. 

Nor  is  there  validity  in  the  objection  that  times  have  changed, 
so  that  an  inference  which  would  justly  follow  upon  the  assertion 
of  so  exalted  claims  by  a  person  now  living  would  not  be  warranted 

1  See  Encycl.  Brit.,  art.  “  Buddhism,”  by  J.  W.  Rhys  Davis. 

2  Monier  Williams,  Hinduism  (London,  1877),  p.  74. 


JESUS  CONSCIOUS  OF  HIS  DIVINE  MISSION 


149 


in  the  case  of  one  living  in  that  remote  age,  and  in  the  community 
to  which  Jesus  belonged.  The  differences  between  that  day  and 
this,  and  between  Palestine,  and  America  or  England,  are  not  of 
a  quality  to  lessen  materially  the  difficulty  of  supposing  that  a  man 
in  his  right  mind  could  falsely  believe  himself  to  be  the  King  and 
Redeemer  of  mankind.  The  conclusive  answer  to  the  objection 
is,  that  the  claims  of  Jesus  were  actually  treated  as  preposterous.  ( 
They  were  scoffed  at  as  most  presumptuous  by  his  contemporaries. 
He  was  put  to  death  for  bringing  them  forward.  Shocking  blas¬ 
phemy  was  thought  to  be  involved  in  such  pretensions.  It  is  true 
that  individuals  in  that  era  set  up  to  be  the  Messiah,  especially  in 
the  tremendous  contest  with  the  Romans  that  ensued.  But  these 
false  Messiahs  were  impostors,  or  men  in  whom  imposture  and 
wild  fanaticism  were  mingled. 

Mental  disorder  was  then,  and  has  been  since,  imputed  to  Jesus. 
At  the  beginning  of  his  public  labors  at  Capernaum,  his  relatives, 
hearing  what  excitement  he  was  causing,  and  how  the  people 
thronged  upon  him,  so  that  he  and  his  disciples  could  not  snatch 
a  few  minutes  in  which  to  take  refreshment,  for  the  moment  feared 
that  he  was  “  beside  himself.”  1  No  doubt  will  be  raised  about 
the  truth  of  this  incident.  It  is  not  a  circumstance  which  any 
disciple,  earlier  or  later,  would  have  been  disposed  to  invent.  The 
Pharisees  and  scribes  charged  that  he  was  possessed  of  a  demon. 
According  to  the  fourth  Gospel,  they  said,  “  He  hath  a  demon,  and 
is  mad.”  2  The  credibility  of  the  fourth  evangelist  here  is  assumed 
by  Renan.3  In  Mark,  the  charge  that  he  is  possessed  by  the 
prince  of  evil  spirits  immediately  follows  the  record  of  the  attempt 
of  his  relatives  “  to  lay  hold  on  him.”  4  Not  improbably,  the  evan¬ 
gelist  means  to  imply  that  mental  aberration  was  involved  in  the 
accusation  of  the  scribes,  as  it  is  expressly  said  to  have  been 
imputed  to  him  by  his  family.  This  idea  of  mental  alienation  has 
not  come  alone  from  the  Galilean  family  in  their  amazement  at  the 
commotion  excited  by  Jesus,  and  in  their  solicitude  on  account  of, 
his  unremitting  devotion  to  his  work.  Nor  has  it  been  confined 

1Mark  iii.  21,  cf.  ver.  32.  In  ver.  21  tXeyo v  may  have  an  indefinite  subject, 
and  refer  to  a  spreading  report  which  the  relatives  —  oi  Trap  avrov  —  had 
heard :  so  Ewald,  Weiss,  Marcusevangelium  ad  loc.  Or  it  may  denote  what 
was  said  by  the  relatives  themselves :  so  Meyer. 

2  pbalverai,  John  x.  20. 

3  Renan,  Vie  de  Jesus,  13th  ed.,  p.  331. 


4  Mark  iii.  21. 


150  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


to  the  adversaries  who  were  stung  by  his  rebukes,  and  dreaded 
the  loss  of  their  hold  on  the  people.  A  recent  writer,  after  speak¬ 
ing  of  Jesus  as  swept  onward,  in  the  latter  part  of  his  career,  by  a 
tide  of  enthusiasm,  says,  “  Sometimes  one  would  have  said  that  his 
reason  was  disturbed.”  “The  grand  vision  of  the  kingdom  of  God 
made  him  dizzy.”1  “  His  temperament,  inordinately  impassioned, 
carried  him  every  moment  beyond  the  limits  of  human  nature.”2 
These  suggestions  of  Renan  are  cautiously  expressed.  He  broaches, 

fas  will  be  seen  hereafter,  an  hypothesis  still  more  revolting,  for  the 
sake  of  clearing  away  difficulties  which  his  Atheistic  or  Pantheistic 
philosophy  does  not  enable  him  otherwise  to  surmount.  Yet  he 
does,  though  not  without  some  signs  of  timidity,  more  than  insin¬ 
uate  that  enthusiasm  was  carried  to  the  pitch  of  derangement. 
Reason  is  said  to  have  lost  its  balance. 

The  words  and  conduct  of  Jesus  can  be  considered  extravagant 
only  on  the  supposition  that  his  claims,  his  assertions  respecting 
himself,  were  exaggerated.  His  words  and  actions  were  not  out 
of  harmony  with  these  claims.  It  is  in  these  pretensions,  if  any¬ 
where,  that  the  proof  of  mental  alienation  must  be  sought.  There 
is  nothing  in  the  teaching  of  Christ,  there  is  nothing  in  his  ac¬ 
tions,  to  countenance  in  the  least  the  notion  that  he  was  dazed 
and  deluded  by  morbidly  excited  feeling.  Who  can  read  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  not  be  impressed  with  t?he  perfect 
sobriety  of  his  temperament?  Everywhere,  in  discourse  and  dia¬ 
logue,  there  is  a  vein  of  deep  reflection.  He  meets  opponents, 
even  cavillers,  with  arguments.  When  he  is  moved  to  indignation, 
there  is  no  loss  of  a  cool  self-possession.  There  is  no  vague 
outpouring  of  anger,  as  of  a  torrent  bursting  its  barriers.  Every 
item  in  the  denunciation  of  the  Pharisees  is  coupled  with  a  dis¬ 
tinct  specification  justifying  it.3  No  single  idea  is  seized  upon 
and  magnified  at  the  expense  of  other  truths  of  equal  moment.. 
No  one-sided  view  of  human  nature  is  held  up  for  acceptance. 
A  broad,  humane  spirit  pervades  the  precepts  which  he  uttered. 
Asceticism,  the  snare  of  religious  reformers,  is  foreign  both  to  his 
teaching  and  his  example.  Shall  the  predictions  relative  to  the 
spread  of  his  kingdom,  and  to  its  influence  on  the  world  of  man¬ 
kind,  be  attributed  to  a  distempered  fancy  ?  But  how  has  history 
vindicated  them  !  What  is  the  history  of  the  Christian  ages  but 


1  “  Lui  donnait  le  vertige.” 


2  Vie  de  Jesus,  13th  ed.,  p.  331. 
8  Matt,  xxiii. 


JESUS  CONSCIOUS  OF  HIS  DIVINE  MISSION 


151 

the  verification  of  that  forecast  which  Jesus  had  of  the  effect  of 
his  work,  brief  though  it  was?  Men  who  give  up  important  parts 
of  the  Christian  creed  discern,  nevertheless,  “  the  sweet  reason¬ 
ableness  ”  which  characterizes  the  teaching,  and,  equally  so,  the 
conduct,  of  Jesus.  The  calm  wisdom,  the  inexhaustible  depth  be¬ 
comes  daily  more  and  more  apparent  as  time  flows  on  —  is  that 
the  offspring  of  a  disordered  brain?  That  penetration  into  human 
nature  which  laid  bare  the  secret  springs  of  action,  which  knew 
men  better  than  they  knew  themselves,  piercing  through  every 
mask — did  that  belong  to  an  intellect  unbalanced? 

Jesus  was  no  enthusiast,  if  that  designation  is  taken  to  imply 
an  overplus  of  fervor  or  a  heated  imagination.  If  fanaticism  is  dis¬ 
tinguished  from  bare  enthusiasm,  as  according  to  Isaac  Taylor 
it  should  be,  by  having  in  it  an  ingredient  of  hatred,  no  reproach 
could  be  more  unmerited  than  the  ascription  to  Jesus  of  this 
odious  quality. 

If  we  reject  the  hypothesis  of  mental  weakness  or  disorder,  we 
are  driven  to  the  alternative  of  accepting  the  consciousness  of 
Jesus,  with  respect  to  his  office  and  calling,  as  sane  and  veracious, 
or  of  attributing  to  him  moral  depravation.  He  exalts  himself 
above  the  level  of  mankind.  He  places  himself  on  an  eminence 
inaccessible  to  all  other  mortals.  He  conceives  himself  to  stand 
in  a  relation  both  to  God  and  to  the  human  race  to  which  no 
other  human  being  can  aspire.  If,  to  speak  of  one  thing,  the 
remission  of  sins  is  declared  by  churches  or  by  the  clergy,  it  is 
always  made  conditional  on  repentance,  and  by  an  authority  con¬ 
sidered  to  be  derived  from  Christ.  It  would  be  a  wild  dream  for 
any  other  human  being  to  imagine  himself  to  be  possessed  of  the 
prerogatives  which  Jesus  quietly  assumes  to  exercise.  Is  this  mere 
assumption?  What  an  amount  of  self-ignorance  does  it  not  involve  ! 
What  self- exaggeration  is  implied  in  it  !  If  moral  rectitude  con¬ 
tains  the  least  guaranty  of  self-knowledge,  if  purity  of  character 
qualifies  a  man  to  know  himself,  and  guard  himself  from  seeking 
to  soar  to  an  elevation  to  which  he  has  not  a  shadow  of  a  right, 
then  what  shall  be  said  of  him  who  is  guilty  of  self-deification,  or 
of  what  is  almost  equivalent?  On  the  contrary,  the  holiness  of 
Jesus,  if  he  was  holy,  is  a  ground  for  reposing  confidence  in  his 
convictions  respecting  himself. 

If  there  is  good  reason  to  conclude  that  Jesus  was  a  sinless  man, 
there  is  an  equal  reason  for  believing  in  him.  It  has  been  said, 


152  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


even  by  individuals  among  the  defenders  of  the  faith,  that,  inde¬ 
pendently  of  miracles,  his  perfect  sinlessness  cannot  be  estab¬ 
lished.  “  But  where,”  it  has  been  said,  “  is  the  proof  of  perfect 
sinlessness?  No  outward  life  and  conduct  could  prove  this, 
because  goodness  depends  on  the  inward  motive,  and  the  per¬ 
fection  of  the  inward  motive  is  not  proved  by  the  outward  act. 
Exactly  the  same  act  may  be  perfect  or  imperfect,  according  to 
the  spirit  of  the  doer.  The  same  language  of  indignation  against 
the  wicked  which  issues  from  our  Lord’s  mouth  might  be  uttered 
by  an  imperfect  good  man  who  mixed  human  frailty  with  the 
emotion.”1  The  importance  of  miracles  as  the  counterpart  and 
complement  of  evidence  of  a  different  nature  is  not  questioned. 
It  is  not  denied,  that  if,  by  proof,  demonstration  is  meant,  such 
proof  of  the  sinlessness  of  Jesus  is  precluded.  Reasoning  on  such 
a  matter  is,  of  course,  probable.  Nevertheless,  it  may  be  fully 
convincing.  On  the  same  species  of  reasoning  is  the  belief  in  the 
testimony  to  miracles  founded.  How  do  we  judge,  respecting 
any  one  whom  we  well  know,  whether  he  possesses  one  trait  of 
character,  or  lacks  another?  How  do  we  form  a  decided  opinion, 
in  many  cases,  with  regard  to  the  motives  of  a  particular  act,  or  in 
respect  to  his  habitual  temper?  It  is  by  processes  of  inference 
precisely  similar  to  those  by  which  we  conclude  that  Jesus  was 
\pure  and  holy.  There  are  indications  of  perfect  purity  and  holi¬ 
ness  which  exclude  rational  doubt  upon  the  point.  There  are 
phenomena,  positive  and  negative,  which  presuppose  faultless 
perfection  —  which  baffle  explanation  on  any  other  hypothesis. 
If  there  are  facts  which  it  is  impossible  to  account  for,  in  case 
moral  fault  is  conceived  to  exist,  then  the  existence  of  moral  fault 
is  disproved. 

The  virtue  of  Jesus,  be  it  observed,  was  not  an  innocence  which 
was  not  tried  by  temptation,  a  virtue  not  tested  in  contact  with 
solicitations  to  evil.  The  story  of  the  temptations  that  assailed 
Jesus  at  the  outset  of  his  ministry  is  a  picture  of  enticements  that 
could  not  be  escaped  in  the  situation  in  which  he  was  placed. 
To  use  for  his  own  personal  comfort  and  advantage  the  power 
given  of  God  for  ends  wholly  unselfish,  to  presume  on  the  favor 
and  miraculous  protection  of  God,  by  rash  and  needless  exposure 
to  perils,  by  adopting  means,  not  consonant  with  the  divine  plan 
and  will,  with  a  view  to  secure  a  rapid  attainment  of  the  end 

1  Mozley,  Lectures  on  Miracles ,  p.  n. 


JESUS  CONSCIOUS  OF  HIS  DIVINE  MISSION 


153 


set  before  him,  the  building  up  of  the  kingdom  of  righteousness 
on  earth  —  such  were  the  temptations  thrust  in  his  way  at  the 
beginning,  and  through  the  entire  period  of  his  contact  with  the 
popular  demands  and  expectations.  The  perfection  of  his  char¬ 
acter  was  the  result  of  an  unerring  resistance  to  specious  allure¬ 
ments,  which  continued  to  the  last.  When  the  final  test  was 
reached,  his  words,  which  had  been  the  voice  of  his  soul  from 
the  outset,  were,  “  Not  my  will,  but  thine,  be  done.”  1 

It  may  be  thought  that  we  are  at  least  incapable  of  proving  the 
sinlessness  of  Jesus  until  we  have  first  established  the  ordinary 
belief  as  to  the  origin  of  the  Gospels.  This  idea  is  also  a  mistake. 
Our  impression  of  the  character  of  Christ  results  from  a  great 
number  of  incidents  and  conversations  recorded  of  him.  The 
data  of  the  tradition  are  miscellaneous,  multiform.  If  there  had 
been  matter,  which,  if  handed  down,  would  have  tended  to  an 
estimate  of  Jesus  in  the  smallest  degree  less  favorable  than  is 
deducible  from  the  tradition  as  it  stands,  who  was  competent, 
even  if  anybody  had  been  disposed,  to  eliminate  it?  What  dis¬ 
ciples,  earlier  or  later,  had  the  keenness  of  moral  discernment 
which  would  have  been  requisite  in  order  thus  to  sift  the  evangelic 
narrative?  Something,  to  say  the  least,  —  some  words,  some 
actions,  or  omissions  to  act,  —  would  have  been  left  to  stain  the 
fair  picture.  Moreover,  the  conception  of  the  character  of  Jesus 
which  grows  up  in  the  mind  on  a  perusal  of  the  gospel  records  has 
a  unity,  a  harmony,  a  unique  individuality,  a  verisimilitude.  This 
proves  that  the  narrative  passages  which  call  forth  this  image  in 
the  reader’s  mind  are  substantially  faithful.  The  characteristics 
of  Jesus  which  are  collected  from  them  must  have  belonged  to  an 
actual  person. 

In  an  exhaustive  argument  for  the  sinlessness  of  Jesus,  one 
point  would  be  the  impression  which  his  character  made  on  others. 
What  were  the  reproaches  of  his  enemies?”  If  there  were  faults, 
vulnerable  places,  his  enemies  would  have  found  them  out.  But 
the  offences  which  they  laid  to  his  charge  are  virtues.  He  asso¬ 
ciated  with  the  poor  and  with  evil-doers.  But  this  was  from  love, 
and  from  a  desire  to  do  them  good.  He  was  willing  to  do  good 
on  the  sabbath ;  that  is,  he  was  not  a  slave  to  ceremony.  He 
honored  the  spirit,  not  the  letter,  of  law.  He  did  not  bow  to  the 
authority  of  pretenders  to  superior  sanctity.  Leaving  out  of  view 

1  Luke  xxii.  42. 


154  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


his  claim  to  be  the  Christ,  we  cannot  think  of  a  single  accusation 
that  does  not  redound  to  his  credit.  There  is  no  reason  to  dis¬ 
trust  the  evangelic  tradition,  which  tells  us  that  a  thief  at  his  side 
on  the  cross  was  struck  with  his  innocence,  and  said,  “  This  man 
hath  done  nothing  amiss.”  The  centurion  exclaimed,  “  Truly, 
this  was  a  righteous  man  !  ”  Since  the  narratives  do  not  conceal 
the  insults  offered  to  Jesus  by  the  Roman  soldiers,  and  the  taunts 
of  one  of  the  malefactors,  there  is  no  ground  for  ascribing  to 
invention  the  incidents  last  mentioned.  But  what  impression  as  to 
his  character  was  made  on  the  company  of  his  intimate  associ¬ 
ates  ?  They  were  not  obtuse,  unthinking  followers.  They  often 
wondered  that  he  did  not  take  a  different  way  of  founding  his 
kingdom,  and  spoke  out  their  dissatisfaction.  They  were  not 
incapable  observers  and  critics  of  character.  Peculiarities  that 
must  have  excited  their  surprise,  they  frankly  related ;  as  that  he 
wept,  was  at  times  physically  exhausted,  prayed  in  an  agony  of 
supplication.  These  circumstances  must  have  come  from  the 
original  reporters.  It  is  certain,  that,  had  they  marked  anything 
in  Jesus  which  was  indicative  of  moral  infirmity,  the  spell  that 
bound  them  to  him  would  have  been  broken.  Their  faith  in  him 
would  have  been  dissolved.  It  is  certain  that  in  the  closest  asso¬ 
ciation  with  him,  in  private  and  in  public,  they  were  more  and 
more  struck  with  his  blameless  excellence.  One  of  the  most 
convincing  proofs  of  the  perfect  soundness  of  his  moral  judgment 
and  of  its  absolute  freedom  from  personal  bias,  such  even  as  an 
unconscious  influence  of  personal  affection,  as  well  as  of  his 
unshrinking  fidelity,  is  seen  in  his  faithful  dealing  with  his  devoted 
and  beloved  Disciples.  Ready  to  pardon  their  deviations  from 
right  under  the  pressure  of  temptation,  his  relation  to  them,  even 
to  the  most  zealous  of  his  followers,  subtracted  not  an  iota  from 
the  pointed  rebuke  which  he  saw  to  be  merited  and  for  their 
own  good  required.  They  parted  from  him  at  last  with  the 
unanimous,  undoubting  conviction  that  not  the  faintest  stain  of 
moral  guilt  rested  on  his  spirit.  He  was  immaculate.  This  was 
a  part  of  their  preaching.  Without  that  conviction  on  their  part, 
Christianity  never  could  have  gained  a  foothold  on  the  earth. 

There  is  not  room  here  to  dwell  on  that  marvellous  unison  of 
virtues  in  the  character  of  Jesus,  —  virtues  often  apparently  con¬ 
trasted.  It  was  not  piety  without  philanthropy,  or  philanthropy 
without  piety,  but  both  in  the  closest  union.  It  was  love  to  God 


JESUS  CONSCIOUS  OF  HIS  DIVINE  MISSION 


155 


and  love  to  man,  each  in  perfection,  and  both  forming  one  spirit. 
It  was  not  compassion  alone,  not  disunited  from  the  sentiment  of 
justice  ;  nor  was  it  rectitude,  austere,  unpitying.  It  was  compas¬ 
sion  and  justice,  the  spirit  of  love  and  the  spirit  of  truth,  neither 
clashing  with  the  other.  There  was  a  deep  concern  for  the  soul 
and  the  life  to  come,  but  no  cynical  indifference  to  human  suffer¬ 
ing  and  well-being  now.  There  was  courage  that  quailed  before 
no  adversary,  but  without  the  least  ingredient  of  reckless  daring, 
and  observant  of  the  limits  of  prudence.  There  was  a  dignity 
which  needed  no  insignia  to  uphold  it,  yet  was  mixed  with  a  sweet 
humility.  There  was  rebuke  for  the  proudest,  a  relentless  un¬ 
masking  of  sanctimonious  oppressors  of  the  poor,  and  the 
gentlest  words  for  the  child,  the  suffering  invalid,  the  penitent 
evil-doer.  There  was  a  deep  concern  for  the  good  of  large  bodies 
of  men,  for  the  nation,  for  the  race  of  mankind,  yet  a  heartfelt 
affection  for  the  single  family,  a  tender  interest  in  the  humblest 
individual,  even  when  unworthy. 

There  is  one  fact  which  ought  to  dispel  every  shadow  of  doubt 
as  to  the  absolute  sinlessness  of  Jesus.  Let  this  fact  be  seriously 
pondered.  He  was  utterly  free  from  self-accusation,  from  the 
consciousness  of  fault ;  whereas,  had  there  been  a  failure  in  duty, 
his  sense  of  guilt  would  have  been  intense  and  overwhelming. 
This  must  have  been  the  case  had  there  been  only  a  single  lapse, 
—  one  instance,  even  in  thought,  of  infidelity  to  God  and  con¬ 
science.  But  no  such  offence  could  have  existed  by  itself;  it 
would  have  tainted  the  character.  Sin  does  not  come  and  dis¬ 
appear,  like  a  passing  cloud.  Sin  is  never  a  microscopic  taint. 
Sin  is  self-propagating.  Its  first  step  is  a  fall  and  the  beginning 
of  a  habit.  We  reiterate  that  a  consciousness  of  moral  defect 
in  such  an  one  as  we  know  that  Jesus  was,  and  as  he  is  universally 
conceded  to  have  been,  must  infallibly  have  betrayed  itself  in  the 
clearest  manifestations  of  conscious  guilt,  of  penitence,  or  of 
remorse.  The  extreme  delicacy  of  his  moral  sense  is  perfectly 
obvious.  His  moral  criticism  goes  down  to  the  secret  recesses  of 
the  heart.  He  demands,  be  it  observed,  ^//-judgment :  “  First 
cast  the  beam  out  of  thine  own  eye;”  “ Judge  not.”  His  con¬ 
demnation  of  moral  evil  is  utterly  unsparing ;  the  very  roots  of  it 
in  illicit  desire  are  to  be  extirpated.  He  knows  how  sinful  men 
are.  He  teaches  them  all  to  pray,  “  Forgive  us  our  debts  ”  ;  yet 
there  is  not  a  scintilla  of  evidence  that  he  ever  felt  the  need  of 


156  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


offering  that  prayer  for  himself.  From  beginning  to  end  there  is 
not  a  lisp  of  self-blame.  He  prays  often,  he  needs  help  from 
above  ;  but  there  is  no  confession  of  personal  unworthiness.  Men 
generally  are  reminded  of  their  sins  when  they  are  overtaken  by 
calamity.  The  ejaculations  of  Jesus  in  the  presence  of  his  inti¬ 
mate  associates,  when  he  was  sinking  under  the  burden  of  mental 
sorrow,  are  transmitted,  —  and  there  is  no  sign  whatever  of  a  dis¬ 
position  on  the  part  of  disciples  to  cloak  his  mental  experiences, 
or  misrepresent  them,  —  but  not  the  slightest  consciousness  of 
error  is  betrayed  in  these  spontaneous  outpourings  of  feeling. 
“  His  was  a  piety  with  no  consciousness  of  sin,  and  no  expression 
of  repentance.”1 

Let  the  reader  contrast  this  unbroken  peace  of  conscience  with 
the  self-chastisement  of  an  upright  spirit  which  has  become  alive 
to  the  obligations  of  divine  law,  —  the  same  law  that  Jesus  in¬ 
culcated.  “  Oh,  wretched  man  that  I  am  !”  No  language  short 
of  this  outcry  will  avail  to  express  the  abject  distress  of  Paul. 
There  are  no  bounds  to  his  self-abasement ;  he  is  “  the  chief  of 
sinners.”  The  burden  of  self-condemnation  is  too  heavy  for  such 
conscientious  minds  to  carry.  Had  the  will  of  Jesus  ever  suc¬ 
cumbed  to  the  tempter,  had  moral  evil  ever  found  entrance  into 
his  heart,  is  it  possible  that  his  humiliation  would  have  been  less, 
or  less  manifest?  That  serene  self-approbation  would  have  fled 
from  his  soul.  He  would  have  partaken  of  the  spirit  which  he 
depicted  in  the  penitent  Publican.  Had  the  Great  Teacher, 
whose  words  are  a  kind  of  audible  conscience  ever  attending  us, 
and  are  more  powerful  than  anything  else  to  quicken  the  sense 
of  obligation  —  had  he  so  little  moral  sensibility  as  falsely  to 
acquit  himself  of  blame  before  God?  It  is  psychologically  im¬ 
possible  that  he  should  have  been  blameworthy  without  knowing 
it,  without  feeling  it  vividly,  and  without  exhibiting  compunction, 
or  remorse  and  shame,  in  the  plainest  manner.  There  was  no 
such  consciousness,  there  was  no  such  expression  of  guilt.  There¬ 
fore  he  was  without  sin. 

We  have  said  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  evangelic  tradition  to 
imply  the  faintest  consciousness  of  moral  evil  in  the  mind  of 
Jesus.  A  single  passage  has  been  by  some  falsely  construed  as 
containing  such  an  implication.  It  may  be  worth  while  to  notice 
it.  To  the  ruler  who  inquired  what  he  should  do  to  secure  eternal 
1  W.  M.  Taylor,  The  Gospel  Miracles ,  etc.,  p.  50. 


JESUS  CONSCIOUS  OF  HIS  DIVINE  MISSION 


157 


life,  Jesus  is  said  to  have  answered,  “  Why  callest  thou  me  good? 
there  is  none  good  but  one,  that  is  God.”1  There  is  another 
reading  of  the  passage  in  Matthew,  which  is  adopted  by  Tischen- 
dorf :  “  Why  askest  thou  me  concerning  the  good?  There  is  one,” 
etc.2  This  answer  is  not  unsuitable  to  the  question,  “  What  good 
thing  shall  I  do?”  It  points  the  inquirer  to  God.  It  is  fitted  to 
suggest  that  goodness  is  not  in  particular  doings,  but  begins  in  a 
connecting  of  the  soul  with  God.  We  cannot  be  certain,  however, 
whether  Jesus  made  exactly  this  response,  or  said  what  is  given  in 
the  parallel  passages  in  Mark  and  Luke.  If  the  latter  hypothesis  be 
correct,  it  is  still  plain  that  his  design  was  simply  to  direct  the 
inquirer  to  God,  whose  will  is  the  fountain  of  law.  He  disclaims 
the  epithet  “  good,”  and  applies  it  to  God  alone,  meaning  that 
God  is  the  primal  source  of  all  goodness.  Such  an  expression  is 
in  full  accord  with  the  usual  language  of  Jesus  descriptive  of  his 
dependence  on  God.  The  goodness  of  Jesus,  though  without 
spot  or  flaw,  was  progressive  in  its  development ;  and  this  dis¬ 
tinction  from  the  absolute  goodness  of  God  might  justify  the 
phraseology  which  he  employed.3  The  humility  of  Jesus  in  his 
reply  to  the  ruler  was  far  enough  from  that  of  an  offender  against 
the  divine  law.  Its  ground  was  totally  diverse/ 

There  is  a  single  occurrence  narrated  in  the  fourth  Gospel, 
which  may  be  appropriately  referred  to  in  this  place.4  Jesus  said, 
“  I  go  not  up  to  this  feast:  ”  the  “yet”  in  both  the  Authorized 
and  the  Revised  Versions  probably  forms  no  part  of  the  text. 
“  But  when  his  brethren  were  gone  up,  then  went  he  also  up,  not 

openly,  but,  as  it  were,  in  secret.”  Can  anybody  think  that  the 

author  of  the  Gospel,  whoever  he  was,  understands,  and  means 
that  his  readers  shall  infer,  that  the  first  statement  to  the  brethren 
was  an  intentional  untruth?  It  is  possible  that  new  considerations, 
not  mentioned  in  the  brief  narration,  induced  Jesus  to  alter  his 
purpose.  This  is  the  opinion  of  Meyer.5  He  may  have  waited, 
as  on  certain  other  occasions,  for  a  divine  intimation,  which  came 
sooner  than  it  was  looked  for.6  “  My  time,”  he  had  said  to  his 

1  Matt.  xix.  17,  cf.  Mark  x.  18;  Luke  xviii.  19. 

2  tL  lie  ipior as  irepi  tov  ayadov ; 

8  See  Weiss,  Matthaiisevangelium ,  ad  loc. ;  Biblische  Theol .,  p.  71. 

4  John  vii.  8,  10,  14.  5  Evang.  Johannis,  ad  loc. 

6  Cf.  vers.  6,  7,  and  ii.  4.  So  Weiss,  in  Meyer’s  Komm.  uber  das  Evang. 

Johann .,  ad  loc. 


158  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

brethren,  “  is  not  yet  full  come.”  It  was  perhaps  signified  to  him 
that  he  could  go  to  Jerusalem  without  then  precipitating  the  crisis. 
He  had  felt  that  to  accompany  the  festal  caravan  would  be  to  make 
prematurely  a  public  demonstration  adapted  to  rouse  and  combine 
his  adversaries.  In  fact,  he  did  not  show  himself  at  Jerusalem 
until  the  first  part  of  the  feast  was  over.  It  is  not  unlikely  that 
he  travelled  over  Samaria. 

One  of  the  Evangelists  relates  that,  on  a  certain  occasion,  when 
he  was  indirectly  prompted  by  his  mother  to  work  a  miracle,  he 
said,  “  Woman,  what  have  I  to  do  with  thee?1  Mine  hour  is  not 
yet  come.”  It  was  only  a  prompting  from  above,  no  suggestion 
from  a  human  source,  which  he  could  heed  in  a  matter  of  this 
kind.  In  the  same  spirit  the  Disciples  were  told  that  there  was  a 
bond  of  loyalty  more  sacred  than  regard  for  the  nearest  and  dear¬ 
est  relatives.2  As  to  the  designation,  “  Woman,”  it  implies  not 
the  least  coldness  of  feeling.  The  same  Evangelist  tells  us  that 
so  Jesus  addressed  his  mother  from  the  cross  when  he  committed 
her  to  the  tender  care  of  his  Follower.3  So,  also,  he  designated 
Mary  Magdalene  when  she  was  weeping  at  the  tomb.4 

Complaints  have  been  made  of  the  severity  of  his  denunciation 
of  the  Pharisees.  It  is  just  these  passages,  however,  and  such  as 
these,  which  free  Christianity  from  the  stigma  cast  upon  it  by  the 
patronizing  critics  who  style  it  “a  sweet  Galilean  vision,”  and  find 
in  it  nothing  but  a  solace  “  for  tender  and  weary  souls.”5  It  is  no 
fault  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus  that  in  it  righteousness  speaks  out  in 
trumpet-tones.  There  is  no  unseemly  passion,  but  there  is  no  sen¬ 
timentalism.  Hypocrisy  and  cruelty  are  painted  in  their  proper 
colors.  That  retribution  is  in  store  for  the  iniquity  which  steels 
itself  against  the  incentives  to  reform  is  a  part  of  the  Gospel  which 
no  right-minded  man  would  wish  to  blot  out.  It  is  a  truth  too 
clearly  manifest  in  the  constitution  of  things,  too  deeply  graven 
on  the  consciences  of  men.  The  spotless  excellence  of  Jesus 
needs  no  vindication  against  criticism  of  this  nature. 

Were  it  possible  to  believe,  that,  apart  from  the  blinding,  mis¬ 
leading  influence  of  a  perverse  character,  so  monstrous  an  idea 
respecting  himself — supposing  it  to  be  false  —  gained  a  lodge¬ 
ment  in  the  mind  of  Jesus,  the  effect  must  have  been  a  steady, 
rapid  moral  deterioration.  False  pretensions,  the  exaggeration  of 

1  John  ii.  4.  2  Luke  xiv.  26  ;  Matt.  xix.  29.  3  John  xix.  26. 

4  Ibid.,  xx.  15.  5  See  Renan,  English  Conferences ,  and  passim. 


JESUS  CONSCIOUS  OF  HIS  DIVINE  MISSION 


159 


personal  claims,  even  when  there  is  no  deliberate  insincerity  in  the 
assertion  of  them,  distort  the  perceptions.  They  engender  pride 
and  other  unhealthy  passions.  The  career  of  Mohammed  from 
the  time  when  he  set  up  to  be  a  prophet  illustrates  the  downward 
course  of  one  whose  soul  is  possessed  by  a  false  persuasion  of  this 
sort.  When  the  bounds  that  limit  the  rank  and  rights  of  an  indi¬ 
vidual  in  relation  to  his  fellow-men  are  broken  through,  degeneracy 
of  character  follows.  His  head  is  turned.  He  seeks  to  hold  a 
sceptre  that  is  unlawfully  grasped,  to  exercise  a  prerogative  to 
which  his  powers  are  not  equal.  Simplicity  of  feeling,  self-re¬ 
straint,  respect  for  the  equal  rights  of  others,  genuine  fear  of  God, 
gradually  die  out. 

If  it  be  supposed  that  Jesus,  as  the  result  of  morbid  enthusiasm, 
imagined  himself  the  representative  of  God  and  the  Lord  and 
Redeemer  of  mankind,  experience  would  have  dispelled  so  vain 
a  dream.  It  might,  perhaps,  have  been  kept  alive  in  the  first  flush 
of  apparent,  transient  success.  But  defeat,  failure,  desertion  by 
supporters,  will  often  awaken  distrust,  even  in  a  cause  which  is 
true  and  just.  How  would  it  have  been  with  the  professed  Mes¬ 
siah  when  the  leaders  in  Church  and  State  poured  derision  on  his 
claims?  How  would  it  have  been  when  his  own  neighbors,  among 
whom  he  had  grown  up,  chased  him  from  the  town?  how  when  the 
people  who  had  flocked  after  him  for  a  while,  turned  away  in  dis¬ 
belief,  when  his  own  disciples  betrayed  or  denied  him,  when  ruin 
and  disgrace  were  heaped  upon  his  cause,  when  he  was  brought 
face  to  face  with  death  ?  How  would  he  have  felt  when  the  crown 
of  thorns  was  placed  on  his  head  ?  when,  in  mockery,  a  gorgeous 
robe  was  put  on  him  ?  What  an  ordeal  to  pass  through  was  that  ! 
Would  the  dream  of  enthusiasm  have  survived  all  this?  Would 
not  this  high-wrought  self-confidence  have  collapsed  ?  Savonarola, 
when  he  stood  in  the  pulpit  of  St.  Mark’s,  with  the  eager  multitude 
before  him,  and  was  excited  by  his  own  eloquence,  seemed  to  him¬ 
self  to  foresee,  and  ventured  to  foretell,  specific  events.  But  in 
the  coolness  and  calm  of  his  cell  he  had  doubts  about  the  reality 
of  his  own  power  of  prediction.  Hence,  when  tortured  on  the 
rack,  he  could  not  conscientiously  affirm  that  his  prophetic  utter¬ 
ances  were  inspired  of  God.  He  might  think  so  at  certain  mo¬ 
ments  ;  but  there  came  the  ordeal  of  sober  reflection,  there  came 
the  ordeal  of  suffering;  and  under  this  trial  his  own  faith  in  him¬ 
self  was  to  this  extent  dissipated. 


1 


l60  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


The  depth  and  sincerity  of  the  conviction  which  Jesus  enter¬ 
tained  respecting  himself  endured  a  test  even  more  severe  than 
that  of  an  ignominious  failure,  and  the  pains  of  the  cross.  He 
saw  clearly  that  he  was  putting  others  in  mortal  jeopardy.1  The 
same  ostracism,  scorn,  and  malice  awaited  those  who  had  attached 
themselves  to  his  person,  and  were  prominently  identified  with  his 
cause.  Their  families  would  cast  them  off ;  the  rulers  of  Church 
and  State  would  harass  them  without  pity ;  to  kill  them  would  be 
counted  a  service  rendered  to  God.  A  man  must  be  in  his  heart 
of  hearts  persuaded  of  the  justice  of  a  cause  before  he  can  make 
up  his  mind  to  die  for  it ;  but,  if  he  have  a  spark  of  right  feeling 
in  him,  he  must  be  convinced  in  his  inmost  soul  before  he  con¬ 
sents  to  involve  the  innocent  and  trustful  follower  in  the  destruc¬ 
tion  which  he  sees  to  be  coming  on  himself.  It  must  not  be 
forgotten,  that,  from  the  beginning  of  the  public  life  of  Jesus  to 
his  last  breath,  the  question  of  the  reality  of  his  pretensions  was 
definitely  before  him.  He  could  not  escape  from  it  for  a  moment. 
It  was  thrust  upon  him  at  every  turn.  The  question  was,  should 
men  believe  in  him.  The  strength  of  his  belief  in  himself  was 
continually  tested.  It  was  a  subject  of  debate  with  disbelievers. 
On  one  occasion  —  the  historical  reality  of  the  occurrence  no  one 
doubts  —  he  called  together  his  disciples,  and  inquired  of  them 
what  idea  was  entertained  respecting  him  by  the  people.2  He 
heard  their  answer.  Then  he  questioned  them  concerning  their 
own  conviction  on  this  subject.  One  feels  that  his  mood  could 
not  be  more  calm,  more  deliberate.  The  declaration  of  faith  by 
Peter  he  pronounces  to  be  a  rock.  It  is  an  immovable  founda¬ 
tion,  on  which  he  will  erect  an  indestructible  community.  If 
Jesus  persevered  in  the  assertion  of  a  groundless  pretension,  it  was 
not  for  the  reason  that  it  was  unchallenged.  It  was  not  cher¬ 
ished  because  nobody  was  anxious  to  disprove  it  or  few  inclined 
to  dispute  it.  He  was  not  led  to  maintain  it  from  want  of  re¬ 
flection. 

The  foregoing  considerations,  it  is  believed,  are  sufficient  to 
show  that  the  abiding  conviction  in  the  mind  of  Jesus  respecting 
his  own  mission  and  authority  is  inexplicable,  except  on  the  sup¬ 
position  of  its  truth.  There  was  no  moral  evil  to  cloud  his  self¬ 
discernment.  The  bias  of  no  selfish  impulse  warped  his  estimate 

1  Matt.  x.  17,  18,  36;  Mark  x.  39;  John  xvi.  2. 

2  Matt.  xvi.  13-21. 


JESUS  CONSCIOUS  OF  HIS  DIVINE  MISSION 


161 


of  himself.  His  conviction  respecting  his  calling  and  office  re¬ 
mained  unshaken  under  the  severest  trials. 

II.  The  sinlessness  of  Jesus  in  its  probative  force  is  equivalent  to 
a  miracle ;  it  establishes  his  supernatural  mission ;  it  proves  his 
exceptional  relation  to  God. 

We  are  now  to  contemplate  the  perfect  holiness  of  Jesus  from 
another  point  of  view,  as  a  proof  on  a  level  with  miraculous  events, 
and  as  thus  directly  attesting  his  claims,  or  the  validity  of  his  con¬ 
sciousness  of  a  unique,  immediate  connection  with  God. 

Sin  is  the  disharmony  of  the  will  with  the  law  of  universal  love. 
This  law  is  one  in  its  essence,  but  branches  out  in  two  directions, 
—  as  love  supreme  to  God,  and  equal  or  impartial  love  to  men. 
We  have  no  call  in  this  place  to  investigate  the  origin  of  sin.  It 
is  the  universality  of  sin  in  the  world  of  mankind  which  is  the 
postulate  of  the  argument.  Sin  varies  indefinitely  in  kind  and 
degree.  But  sinfulness  in  its  generic  character  is  an  attribute  of 
the  human  family.  A  human  being  old  enough  to  be  conscious 
of  the  distinction  of  right  and  wrong  in  whom  no  distinct  fault  of 
a  moral  nature  is  plainly  discernible  is  rarely  to  be  found.  There 
may  be  here  and  there  a  person  whose  days  have  been  spent  in 
the  seclusion  of  domestic  life,  under  Christian  influences,  without 
any  such  explicit  manifestation  of  evil  as  arrests  attention  and  calls 
for  censure.  Occasionally  there  is  a  man  in  whom,  even  though 
he  mingles  in  the  active  work  of  life,  his  associates  find  nothing  to 
blame.  But,  in  these  extremely  infrequent  instances  of  lives  with¬ 
out  any  apparent  blemish,  the  individuals  themselves  who  are  thus 
remarkable  are  the  last  to  consent  to  the  favorable  verdict.  That 
sensitiveness  of  conscience  which  accompanies  pure  character  rec¬ 
ognizes  and  deplores  the  presence  of  sin.  If  there  are  not  positive 
offences,  there  are  defects ;  things  are  left  undone  which  ought  to 
be  done.  If  there  are  no  definite  habits  of  feeling  to  be  con¬ 
demned,  there  is  a  conscious  lack  of  a  due  energy  of  holy  prin¬ 
ciple.  In  those  who  are  deemed,  and  justly  deemed,  the  most 
virtuous,  and  in  whom  there  is  no  tendency  to  morbid  self-depre¬ 
ciation,  there  are  deep  feelings  of  penitence.  “  If  we  say  that  we 
have  no  sin,  we  deceive  ourselves,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  us.”1 
This  is  quoted  here,  not  as  being  an  authoritative  testimony,  but 
as  the  utterance  of  one  whose  standard  of  character  was  obviously 

1  I  John  i.  8. 

M 


1 62  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

the  highest.  With  such  an  ideal  of  human  perfection,  the  very 
thought  that  any  man  should  consider  himself  sinless  excites  indig¬ 
nation.  One  who  pronounces  himself  blameless  before  God  proves 
that  falsehood,  and  not  truth,  governs  his  judgment. 

What  shall  be  said,  then,  if  there  be  One  of  whom  it  can  truly 
be  affirmed,  that  every  motive  of  his  heart,  not  less  than  every 
overt  action,  was  fully  conformed  to  the  loftiest  ideal  of  excel¬ 
lence,  —  One  in  whom  there  was  never  the  faintest  self-condemna¬ 
tion,  or  the  least  ground  for  such  an  emotion  ?  There  is  a  miracle ; 
not,  indeed,  on  the  same  plane  as  miracles  which  interrupt  the 
customary  sequences  of  natural  law.  It  is  an  event  in  another 
order  of  things  than  the  material  sphere.  But  it  is  equally  an 
exception  to  human  experience.  It  is  equally  to  all  who  discern 
the  fact  a  proclamation  of  the  immediate  presence  of  God.  It  is 
equally  an  attestation  that  he  who  is  thus  marked  out  in  distinc¬ 
tion  from  all  other  members  of  the  race  bears  a  divine  commission. 
There  is  an  exception  to  the  uniform  course  of  things.  Such  a 
phenomenon  occasions  no  less  wonder  than  the  instantaneous 
cure,  by  a  word,  of  a  man  born  blind. 

On  this  eminence  he  stands  who  called  himself  the  Son  of  man. 
It  is  not  claimed  that  this  peculiarity  of  perfect  holiness  proves  of 
itself  the  divinity  of  Jesus.  This  would  be  a  larger  conclusion  than 
the  premises  justify.  But  the  inference  is  unavoidable,  first,  that 
his  relation  to  God  is  altogether  peculiar,  and  secondly,  that  his 
testimony  respecting  himself  has  an  attestation  akin  to  that  of  a 
miracle.  That  testimony  must  be  on  all  hands  allowed  to  have 
included  the  claim  to  be  the  authoritative  Guide  and  the  Saviour 
of  mankind ;  to  be  the  Son  of  God  in  such  a  sense  as  to  include 
the  truth,  and  not  this  truth  alone,  that  “none  but  the  Father 
knoweth  the  Son ;  neither  doth  any  know  the  Father,  save  the 
Son,  and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son  willeth  to  reveal  him.” 1 

1  Matt.  xi.  27. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


MIRACLES  :  THEIR  NATURE,  CREDIBILITY,  AND  PLACE  IN  CHRISTIAN 

EVIDENCES 

Christianity  from  the  first  has  been  declared  to  have  a  supernat¬ 
ural  origin  and  sanction.1  It  is  certain  that  the  apostles  denied 
that  the  religion  which  they  were  promulgating  was  the  work  of 
man,  or  that  its  distinctive  worth  was  owing  to  created  causes  or 
agents.  That  Jesus  preceded  them  in  this  declaration  is  equally 
certain.  At  the  same  time,  the  prior  revelation  of  God  in  Nature 
and  Providence  was  not  ignored  or  lightly  esteemed.  Its  compar¬ 
ative  failure  to  produce  its  legitimate  effect  was  attributed  to  the 
power  of  evil  to  dull  the  sense  of  the  supernatural.  Yet  the  dis¬ 
content,  self-accusation,  and  vague  yearning  for  a  lost  birthright, 
which  move  men  to  hearken  to  the  Christian  revelation,  are  attrib¬ 
uted  to  the  influence  of  the  earlier  revelation  in  the  material  crea¬ 
tion  and  in  conscience. 

Nor  is  there  any  inconsistency  between  the  two  revelations. 
Christianity  is  in  part  a  republication  of  truth  respecting  God  and 
human  duties  —  truth  which  the  light  of  Nature,  were  reason  not 
clouded,  would  of  itself  disclose.  Virtues  of  character  which 
have  shed  lustre  on  individuals  or  communities  that  have  had  no 
knowledge  of  Christianity,  correspond  in  no  small  degree  to  the 
precepts  of  Christianity.  The  difference,  as  already  pointed  out, 
is  that  in  Christian  teaching  such  duties  are  ingrafted  on  new 
motives,  are  connected  with  more  potent  incentives,  and  come 
home  to  the  heart  and  conscience  with  a  force  of  appeal  not  felt 

1  The  term  “  supernatural  ”  is  used  here,  and  occasionally  elsewhere  on 
these  pages,  as  a  matter  of  convenience,  despite  the  fact  that  erroneous  ideas 
are  liable  to  be  associated  with  it.  The  term  serves  to  distinguish  what  it  is 
used  to  denote  from  the  customary  sequences  of  physical  and  mental  phenom¬ 
ena  collectively  considered,  but  not  as  implying  that  these  are  not  equally  in 
their  origin,  supernatural,  i.e.  produced  by  the  will  and  power  of  God.  Strictly 
speaking,  the  “  natural  ”  is  “  supernatural,”  and  vice  versa. 

163 


1 64  tiie  grounds  of  theistic  and  Christian  belief 

before.  But  the  chief  end  of  Christianity  lies  beyond  that  which 
it  has  in  common  with  natural  religion.  The  purpose  is  to  bring 
men  into  a  state  of  reconciliation  and  filial  connection  with  God,  and 
to  plant  on  the  earth  a  kingdom  of  righteousness  and  peace.  For 
such  an  achievement  more  is  needed  than  communications  of 
abstract  truth.  The  events  which  form  the  groundwork  of  Chris¬ 
tianity  are  such  as  to  awaken  a  living  perception  of  the  character 
of  God  and  to  impress  the  soul  with  a  sense  of  his  personal  pres¬ 
ence  and  agency.  The  doctrinal  part  of  the  Scriptures  of  both 
the  Old  and  New  Testament  is  a  growth  upon  an  underlying  foun¬ 
dation  of  facts.  Doctrine  illuminates  that  history  wherein,  from 
age  to  age,  the  just  and  merciful  God  had  manifested  himself  to 
men. 

When  this  view  is  taken  of  the  Gospel,  it  no  longer  wears  the 
appearance  of  being  an  afterthought  of  the  Creator.  Revelation 
is  inwoven  with  phenomena  which  form  an  integral  part  of  the  his¬ 
tory  of  mankind.  That  history  is  a  connected  whole.  As  such, 
Christianity  is  the  realization  of  an  eternal  purpose.  In  this  light 
it  is  regarded  by  the  writers  of  the  New  Testament.  To  be  sure, 
inasmuch  as  sin  is  no  part  of  the  creation,  but  is  the  perverse  act  of 
the  creature,  and  since  the  consequences  of  sin  in  the  natural  order 
are  thus  brought  in,  it  may  be  said  with  truth  that  redemption  is 
the  remedy  of  a  disorder.  It  may  be  truly  affirmed  that  Revela¬ 
tion,  in  the  forms  which  it  actually  assumed,  is  made  possible  and 
necessary  by  the  infraction  of  an  ideal  order.  Only  in  this  sense 
can  it  be  called  a  provision  for  an  emergency.  It  was,  however, 
none  the  less  preordained.  It  entered  into  the  original  plan  of 
human  history,  conditioned,  as  features  of  that  plan  were,  on  the 
foreseen  fact  of  sin.  The  Christian  believer  finds  in  the  purpose 
of  redemption  through  Jesus  Christ  the  key  to  the  understanding  of 
history  in  its  entire  compass. 

The  historical  account  of  the  facts  at  the  basis  of  the  Christian 
Revelation  contains  in  it  records  of  miracles.  In  the  last  century 
the  design  of  the  miracles  of  the  Gospel  was  commonly  considered 
to  be  to  furnish  Christ  and  the  apostles  with  “credentials”  in 
proof  of  a  divine  commission  to  teach.  This  purpose  of  the  mira¬ 
cles  is  not  destitute  of  a  sanction  in  the  New  Testament  Scrip¬ 
tures.1  But  it  is  not  at  all  a  full  description  of  their  function. 

1  “  If  I  had  not  done  among  them  the  works  which  none  other  did,  they 
had  not  had  sin.”  John  xv.  24.  The  “works”  included  the  miracles. 


MIRACLES:  THEIR  PLACE  IN  CHRISTIAN  EVIDENCES  165 


Generally  speaking,  they  are  not  to  be  considered  appendages, 
but  rather  constituent  elements  of  Revelation.  The  miracles  of 
healing,  especially,  which  were  wrought  by  Christ,  were  prompted 
by  his  desire  to  relieve  suffering.  The  immediate  motive  was  pity 
for  human  distress.  But  these  were  not  wrought  upon  people  in  a 
mass,  but  on  individuals,  not  sought  out  for  the  purpose  of  curing 
their  physical  disorders.  To  confer  this  blessing  was  not  the 
chief  end  in  view.  It  was  subsidiary  to  the  chief  purpose,  which 
was  to  impart  a  spiritual  healing.  Hence  they  were  done  in  a 
way  to  indicate  that  they  were  but  an  element  in  the  self-mani¬ 
festation  of  Christ. 

They  were  to  rekindle  a  dormant  faith.  They  were  adapted  to 
reenforce  a  faith  that  was  weak.  They  were  tokens  of  the  super¬ 
natural.  They  were,  moreover,  symbols  of  the  spiritual  energy  to 
go  forth  from  the  Saviour’s  person  and  work  for  the  redemption 
of  the  world.  The  sign-seeking  temper,  the  unspiritual  appetite 
for  marvels  for  their  own  sake,  the  disposition  to  see  nowhere, 
except  in  displays  of  power,  evidence  of  God’s  presence  and  of 
his  own  mission  from  God,  the  demand  for  an  astounding  sign 
from  heaven,  Jesus  rebuked.  But  this  is  all.  “The  Jesus  Christ 
presented  to  us  in  the  New  Testament  would  become  a  very  dif¬ 
ferent  person  if  the  miracles  were  removed.”1  “The  character  of 
Jesus,”  to  quote  the  words  of  Horace  Bushnell,  “  is  ever  shining 
with  and  through  them,  in  clear  self-evidence,  leaving  them  never 
to  stand  as  raw  wonders  only  of  might,  but  covering  them  with 
glory,  as  tokens  of  a  heavenly  love,  and  acts  that  only  suit  the 
proportions  of  his  personal  greatness  and  majesty.”  2 

Before  considering  the  subject  of  the  credibility  of  the  miracles 
recorded  in  the  New  Testament,  something  should  be  said  on  the 
question  whether  or  not  miracles  are  possible.  Denial  or  doubt 
on  this  last  point  results  from  an  untheistic  conception  of  Nature, 
and  the  relation  of  Nature  to  God.  Or,  if  the  personality  of  God 
is  recognized,  he  is  conceived  of  as  exterior  to  the  world,  either  a 
passive  spectator  or  acting  upon  it  from  without.  The  notion  of 
Nature  is  that  of  a  machine,  having  its  springs  of  motion  within 
itself —  a  closed  aggregate  of  forces  which  operates  in  a  mechanical 
way.  It  is  inferred  that  a  miracle,  were  it  to  occur,  would  be  an 
irruption  into  this  complex  mechanism.  Such  has  been  the  idea 

1  Dr.  Temple  (Archbishop  of  Canterbury),  The  Relations  between  Religion 
and  Science ,  p.  209.  2  Bushnell,  Nature  and  the  Supernatural ,  p.  364. 


1 66  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


of  Deism,  and  something  like  it  has  too  often  been  implied  in  the 
language  of  Christian  theologians.  When  it  is  understood  that 
God,  transcendent  and  personal  though  he  be,  is  likewise  imma¬ 
nent  in  Nature,  and  that  Nature  and  the  interaction  of  its  parts 
are  dependent  on  his  unceasing  energy,  the  difficulty  vanishes. 
Science,  no  more  than  religion,  warrants  us  in  assuming  the  exist¬ 
ence  of  “  forces”  in  Nature,  which  form  an  independent  totality. 
In  fact,  the  drift  of  science  is  toward  the  unification  of  “  forces.” 
“The  whole  course  of  Nature,”  says  Lotze,  “becomes  intelligible 
only  by  supposing  the  coworking  (. Mitwirkung )  of  God,  who  alone 
carries  forward  ( vermittelt )  the  reciprocal  action  of  the  different 
parts  of  the  world.  But  that  view  which  admits  a  life  of  God  that 
is  not  benumbed  in  an  unchangeable  sameness,  will  be  able  to 
understand  his  eternal  coworking  as  a  variable  quantity,  the  trans¬ 
forming  influence  of  which  comes  forth  ( hervortritt )  at  particular 
moments  and  attests  that  the  course  of  Nature  is  not  shut  up 
within  itself.  And  this  being  the  case,  the  complete  conditioning 
causes  of  the  miracle  will  be  found  in  God  and  Nature  together, 
and  in  that  eternal  action  and  reaction  between  them,  which 
although  perhaps  not  ordered  simply  according  to  general  laws,  is 
not  void  of  regulative  principles.  This  vital,  as  opposed  to  a 
mechanical,  constitution  of  Nature,  together  with  the  conception 
of  Nature  as  not  complete  in  itself — as  if  it  were  dissevered 
from  the  divine  energy  —  shows  how  a  miracle  may  take  place 
without  any  disturbance  elsewhere  of  the  constancy  of  Nature, 
all  whose  forces  are  affected  sympathetically,  with  the  conse¬ 
quence  that  its  orderly  movement  goes  on  unhindered.”1 

Much  that  has  been  written,  in  recent  decades,  under  the  name 
of  natural  “  science  ”  contains  in  it  an  admixture  of  metaphysics 
which  belongs,  if  it  could  claim  a  foothold  anywhere,  to  philosophy 
and  not  to  natural  or  physical  science  as  such.  Hence  it  cannot 
plead  the  authority  conceded  to  those  who  teach  science  properly 
so  called.  What  is  meant  by  “Nature”?  what  is  matter?  what 
is  “force”?  what  does  the  term  “law,”  and  the  phrase  “laws  of 
Nature,”  signify?  We  enter  here  into  no  prolonged  investigation 

1  Lotze,  Mikrokosmos,  4th  ed.,  vol.  iii.  p.  364.  The  principle  of  the  con¬ 
servation  of  energy  has  nothing  to  say  of  the  sum  of  energy  in  the  universe, 
or  whether  there  be  an  unalterable  sum.  It  is,  in  its  proper  limits,  an 
hypothesis,  or  best  working  postulate  at  present.  See  Ward,  Nataralis?n  and 
Agnosticism,  ii.  lecture  vi. 


MIRACLES:  THEIR  PLACE  IN  CHRISTIAN  EVIDENCES  1 67 


of  these  topics,  but  it  is  necessary  to  remind  the  reader  of  the 
trend  of  the  psychical  sciences  at  present,  which  is  due  largely  to 
the  impulse  first  given  by  Berkeley,  and  to  the  influence  of  Kant 
and  Hegel.  Not  that  the  conception  of  matter  which  is  coming 
into  vogue  is  that  of  a  purely  subjective  idealism  under  which  the 
percepts  of  sense  have  no  existence  save  in  the  human  mind,  but 
it  is  rather  that  of  an  objective  idealism.  The  “  things  of  sense  ” 
are  to  human  apprehension  real  as  phenomena,  and  —  whether  finite 
minds  existed  or  not  —  are  real  as  the  expression  of  the  ideas  and 
the  will  of  God.  If  it  be  settled,  or  if  it  ever  should  be,  that  matter 
is  just  what  the  atomic  theory  describes,  then  it  is  the  atomic 
world  that  constitutes  the  phenomena  which  are  the  objects  of 
sense-perception.  Space,  as  well  as  spatial  phenomena,  is  itself 
phenomenal.  There  is  no  ground  for  saying  that  an  inherent 
bond  of  necessity  determines  the  action  of  the  atoms.  This,  how¬ 
ever,  is  not  to  make  Nature  naught  but  “  an  aggregate  of  Divine 
volitions.” 1 

u  The  natural  history  of  the  material  world  is  truly  a  history  of  nat¬ 
ural  antecedents  which  are  metaphorically  called  agents.  They  are 
to  us  only  signs  of  their  so-called  effects.  .  .  .  Sensible  signs,  not 
operative  causes,  make  up  the  visible  world.  Nature  is  a  divine  sense- 
symbolism  adapted  to  the  use  of  man.  Without  natural  causes  there 
could  be  no  humanly  calculable,  and  more  or  less  controllable,  course 
of  events.  But  if  really  to  explain  an  event  be  to  assign  its  origin  and 
final  cause,  natural  science  never  explains  anything ;  its  province  is  only 
to  discover  the  divinely  established  custom  followed  in  the  natural  suc¬ 
cession.  ”  “  After  God  has  been  found  in  the  moral  experience  of  man, 
which  points  irresistibly  to  intending  Will,  as  the  only  known  Cause 
which  is  unconditional  or  originating,  the  discovery  that  this  is  the 
natural  or  provisional  cause  of  that  is  recognized  as  the  discovery  that 
this  is  the  divinely  constituted  sign,  or  constant  antecedent  of  that. 
The  whole  natural  succession  is  then  recognized  as  a  manifestation  of 
Personal  agency.”2 

These  views  render  it  easy  to  point  out  the  relation  of  miracles 
to  the  observed  constancy  of  Nature.  Were  the  vision  not  clouded, 
the  ordinary  sequences  of  Nature,  its  wise  and  beneficent  order, 
would  manifest  its  Author,  and  call  out  faith  and  adoration.  The 
unexpected  departure  of  Nature  from  its  beaten  path  serves  to 
impress  on  the  minds  of  men  the  half-forgotten  fact  that  insepa- 

1  See  Appendix,  Note  ro. 

2  Fraser,  Philosophy  of  Theism ,  2d  ed.,  pp.  131,  193. 


1 68  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


rable  from  the  “  forces  ”  of  Nature,  even  in  its  ordinary  movement, 
is  the  will  of  God.  What  are  “natural  laws”?  They  are  not 
causes.  They  exert  no  power.  They  are  not  a  code  super¬ 
imposed  upon  natural  objects.  They  are  simply  a  generalized 
statement  of  the  way  in  which  the  objects  of  Nature  are  observed 
to  act  and  interact.  Thus  the  miracle  does  not  clash  with  natural 
laws.  It  is  a  modification  in  the  effect  due  to  unusual  exertion  of 
the  voluntary  agency  which  is  its  cause.  If  there  is  a  new  phenome¬ 
non,  it  is  the  natural  consequence  of  this  variation.  There  is  no 
violation  of  the  law  of  gravitation  when  a  stone  is  thrown  into  the  air. 
Nature  is,  within  limits,  subject  to  the  human  will.  The  intervention 
of  man’s  will  gives  being  to  phenomena  which  no  qualities  of  mat¬ 
ter,  independently  of  the  human  agent,  would  ever  produce.  Yet 
such  effects  following  upon  volition  are  not  said  to  be  violations  of 
law.  Law  describes  the  action  of  things  in  nature  when  that  action 
is  not  modified  and  controlled  by  the  voluntary  agency  back  of  it. 
If  the  efficiency  of  the  divine  will  infinitely  outstrips  that  of  the  will 
of  man,  still  miracles  are  as  really  consistent  with  natural  laws  as 
the  lifting  of  a  man’s  hand  under  the  impulse  of  a  volition.  This 
obvious  fact,  it  may  be  added,  disproves  the  statement  sometimes 
heard,  that  a  miracle  in  any  one  place  would  destroy  the  order  of 
Nature  everywhere. 

If  the  possibility  of  miracles  is  discerned,  the  next  point  to 
be  settled  is  that  of  their  credibility.  The  question  whether  the 
miracles  described  in  the  New  Testament,  by  which  it  is  alleged 
that  Christianity  was  ushered  into  the  world,  actually  occurred,  is 
to  be  settled  by  an  examination  of  the  evidence.  It  is  an  histori¬ 
cal  question,  and  is  to  be  determined  by  an  application  of  the 
canons  applicable  to  historical  inquiry.  The  great  sceptical  phi¬ 
losopher  of  the  last  century  displayed  his  ingenuity  in  an  attempt 
to  show  that  a  miracle  is  from  its  very  nature,  and  therefore  under 
all  circumstances,  incapable  of  proof.  Hume  founds  our  belief  in 
testimony  solely  on  experience.  “  The  reason,”  he  says,  “  why  we 
place  any  credit  in  witnesses  and  historians  is  not  derived  from 
any  co?inection  which  we  perceive  a  priori  between  testimony  and 
reality,  but  because  we  are  accustomed  to  find  a  conformity  be¬ 
tween  them.”  This  is  far  from  being  a  full  account  of  the  origin 
of  our  belief  in  testimony.  Custom  is  not  the  primary  source  of 
credence.  The  truth  is,  that  we  instinctively  give  credit  to  what 
is  told  us ;  that  is,  we  assume  that  the  facts  accord  with  testimony. 


MIRACLES:  THEIR  PLACE  IN  CHRISTIAN  EVIDENCES  169 


Experience,  to  be  sure,  serves  to  modify  this  natural  expectation, 
and  we  learn  to  give  or  withhold  credence  according  to  circum¬ 
stances.  The  circumstance  which  determines  us  to  believe  or 
disbelieve  is  our  conviction  respecting  the  capacity  of  the  witness 
for  ascertaining  the  truth  on  the  subject  of  his  narration  and 
respecting  his  honesty.  If  we  are  convinced  that  he  could  not 
have  been  deceived,  and  that  he  is  truthful,  we  believe  his  story. 
No  doubt  one  thing  which  helps  to  determine  his  title  to  credit  is 
the  probability  or  improbability  of  the  occurrences  related.  The 
circumstance  that  such  occurrences  have  never  taken  place  before, 
or  are  “  contrary  to  experience  ”  in  Hume’s  sense  of  the  phrase, 
does  not  of  necessity  destroy  the  credibility  of  testimony  to  them. 
An  event  is  not  rendered  incapable  of  proof  because  it  occurs,  if 
it  occurs  at  all,  for  the  first  time.  Unless  it  can  be  shown  to  be 
impossible,  or  incredible  on  some  other  account  than  because  it  is 
an  unexampled  event,  it  may  be  capable  of  being  proved  by  wit¬ 
nesses.  Hume  is  not  justified  in  assuming  that  miracles  are  “  con¬ 
trary  to  experience,”  as  he  defines  this  term.  This  is  the  very 
question  in  dispute.  The  evidence  for  the  affirmative,  as  J.  S.  Mill 
has  correctly  stated,  is  diminished  in  force  by  whatever  weight 
belongs  to  the  evidence  that  certain  miracles  have  taken  place. 
The  gist  of  Hume’s  argumentation  is  contained  in  this  remark, 
“  Let  us  suppose  that  the  fact  which  they  [the  witnesses]  affirm, 
instead  of  being  only  marvellous,  is  really  miraculous ;  and  sup¬ 
pose,  also,  that  the  testimony,  considered  apart  and  in  itself, 
amounts  to  an  entire  proof :  in  that  case,  there  is  proof  against 
proof,  of  which  the  strongest  must  prevail,”  etc.  At  the  best,; 
according  to  LIume,  in  every  instance  where  a  miracle  is  alleged, 
proof  balances  proof.  One  flaw  in  this  argument  has  just  been 
pointed  out.  The  fundamental  fallacy  of  this  reasoning  is  in  the 
premises,  which  base  belief  on  naked  “  experience  ”  divorced  from 
all  rational  expectations  drawn  from  any  other  source.  The  argu¬ 
ment  proceeds  on  the  assumption  that  a  miracle  is  just  as  likely 
to  occur  in  one  place  as  in  another ;  that  a  miracle  whereby  the 
marks  of  truthfulness  are  transformed  into  a  mask  of  error  and 
falsehood  is  as  likely  to  occur  as  (for  example)  the  healing  of  a 
blind  man  by  a  touch  of  the  hand.  This  might  be  so  if  the 
Power  that  governs  the  world  were  destitute  of  moral  attributes. 
“  The  question  is  whether  the  presumption  against  miracles  as  mere 
physical  phenomena  is  rebutted  by  the  presumption  in  favor  of 


I  JO  TIIE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


miracles  as  works  of  infinite  benevolence.”  Hume’s  argument  is 
valid  only  on  the  theory  of  Atheism. 

Huxley  objects  to  Hume’s  definition  of  a  miracle  as  a  violation 
of  the  order  of  Nature,  “  because  all  we  know  of  the  order  of 
Nature  is  derived  from  our  observation  of  the  course  of  events  of 
which  the  so-called  miracle  is  a  part.”  1  The  laws  of  Nature,  he 
adds,  “  are  necessarily  based  on  incomplete  knowledge,  and  are  to 
be  held  only  as  grounds  of  a  more  or  less  justifiable  expectation.” 
He  reduces  Hume’s  doctrine,  so  far  as  it  is  tenable,  to  the  canon, 
—  “  the  more  a  statement  of  fact  conflicts  with  previous  experience, 
the  more  complete  must  be  the  evidence  which  is  to  justify  us 
in  believing  it.”  By  “  more  complete  ”  evidence  he  apparently 
means  evidence  greater  in  amount,  and  tested  by  a  more  searching 
scrutiny.  One  of  the  examples  which  is  given  is  the  alleged  exist¬ 
ence  of  a  centaur.  The  possibility  of  a  centaur,  Huxley  is  far 
from  denying,  contrary  as  the  existence  of  such  an  animal  would 
be  to  those  “  generalizations  of  our  present  experience  which  we 
are  pleased  to  call  the  laws  of  Nature.”  Huxley  does  not  deny 
that  such  events  as  the  conversion  of  water  into  wine,  and  the 
raising  of  a  dead  man  to  life,  are  within  the  limits  of  possibility. 
Being,  for  aught  we  can  say,  possible,  we  can  conceive  evidence 
to  exist  of  such  an  amount  and  character  as  to  place  them  beyond 
reasonable  doubt.  Wherein  is  Huxley’s  position  on  this  question 
faulty  ?  He  is  right  in  requiring  that  no  link  shall  be  wanting  in 
the  chain  of  proof.  He  is  right  in  demanding  that  a  mere  “  coin¬ 
cidence  ”  shall  not  be  taken  for  an  efficacious  exertion  of  power. 
It  is  certainly  possible  that  a  man  apparently  dead  should  awake 
simultaneously  with  a  command  to  arise.  If  the  person  who 
uttered  the  command  knew  that  the  death  was  only  apparent,  the 
awakening  would  be  easily  explained.  If  he  did  not  know  it,  and 
if  the  sleep  were  a  swoon  where  the  sense  of  hearing  is  suspended, 
it  is  still  possible  that  the  recovery  of  consciousness  might  occur  at 
the  moment  when  the  injunction  to  arise  was  spoken.  To  be  sure, 
it  would  be  a  startling  coincidence  ;  yet  it  might  be  nothing  more. 
But,  if  there  were  sufficient  reason  to  conclude  that  the  man  had 
passed  the  limit  of  possible  resuscitation  by  unaided  human 
power,  then  his  awakening  at  the  command  of  another  does  not 
admit  of  being  explained  by  natural  causes.  The  conjunction  of 
the  return  of  life  and  the  direction  to  awake  cannot  be  considered 

1  Huxley’s  Hume ,  p.  131. 


MIRACLES:  THEIR  PLACE  IN  CHRISTIAN  EVIDENCES  Ip  I 


a  mere  coincidence.  If  other  events  of  the  same  character  take 
place,  where  the  moral  honesty  of  all  the  persons  concerned,  and 
other  circumstances,  exclude  mistake  as  to  the  facts,  the  proof  of 
miracles  is  complete  and  overwhelming.  Canon  Mozley  says  :  — 

“The  evidential  function  of  a  miracle  is  based  upon  the  common 
argument  of  design  as  proved  by  coincidence.  The  greatest  marvel  or 
interruption  of  the  order  of  nature  occurring  by  itself,  as  the  very  con¬ 
sequence  of  being  connected  with  nothing,  proves  nothing.  But,  if  it 
takes  place  in  connection  with  the  word  or  act  of  a  person,  that  coin¬ 
cidence  proves  design  in  the  marvel,  and  makes  it  a  miracle ;  and, 
if  that  person  professes  to  report  a  message  or  revelation  from  Heaven, 
the  coincidence  again  of  the  miracle  with  the  professed  message  of  God 
proves  design  on  the  part  of  God  to  warrant  and  authorize  the 
message.” 1 

There  is  another  particular  in  which  Huxley  is  in  error.  It  is 
plain  that  if  events  of  the  kind  referred  to,  which  cannot  be  due 
to  mere  coincidence,  occur,  they  call  for  no  revisal  of  our  concep¬ 
tion  of  “  the  order  of  Nature,”  if  by  this  is  meant  the  operation  of 
so-called  “  forces,”  which  are  ordinarily  in  exercise  within  it.  Such 
phenomena,  it  is  obvious,  might  occur  as  would  render  the  mate¬ 
rialistic  explanation  quite  irrational.  The  work  done  might  so  far 
surpass  the  power  of  its  physical  antecedents  that  the  ascription 
of  it  to  a  purely  material  agency  would  be  absurd.  On  the  sup¬ 
position  that  an  occult  material  agency  hitherto  undiscovered 
were  tenable,  we  should  be  driven  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
person  who  had  become  aware  of  it,  and  was  thus  able  to  give  the 
signal  for  the  occurrence  of  the  phenomena,  was  possessed  of 
supernatural  knowledge ;  and  then  we  should  have,  if  not  a  mira¬ 
cle  of  power,  a  miracle  of  knowledge.  The  answer  to  Huxley, 
then,  is,  that  the  circumstances  of  an  alleged  miracle  may  be  such 
as  to  exclude  the  supposition  either  that  there  is  a  remarkable 
coincidence  merely,  or  that  the  order  of  Nature — the  natural  sys¬ 
tem  —  is  in  itself  different  from  what  has  been  previously  ob¬ 
served.  The  circumstances  may  be  such  that  the  only  reasonable 
conclusion  is  the  hypothesis  of  an  unusual  exertion  of  divine 
energy,  constantly  immanent. 

Huxley,  like  Hume,  treats  the  miracle  as  an  isolated  event.  He  looks 
at  it  exclusively  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  naturalist,  as  if  material 
nature  were  dissevered  from  God  and  were  the  sum  of  all  being  and  the 


1  Bampton  Lectures ,  pp.  5,  6. 


1/2  THE  GROUNDS  OF  TIIEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


repository  of  all  force.  He  shuts  his  eyes  to  all  evidence  in  its  favor 
which  it  may  be  possible  to  derive  from  its  ostensible  design  and  use 
and  from  the  circumstances  surrounding  it.  Fie  shuts  his  eyes  to  the 
truth,  even  to  the  possible  truth,  of  the  being  of  God.  Like  Hume,  he 
contemplates  the  miracle  as  a  naked  marvel.  He  confines  his  atten¬ 
tion  to  a  single  quality  of  the  event — its  confessed  extremely  unusual 
character.  An  analogous  mode  of  regarding  historical  occurrences 
would  give  an  air  of  improbability  to  innumerable  events  that  are  well 
known  to  have  taken  place.  If  we  are  told  that  the  enlightened  rulers 
of  a  nation  on  a  certain  day  deliberately  set  fire  to  their  capital,  and 
consumed  its  palaces  and  treasures  in  the  flames,  the  narrative  would 
excite  the  utmost  surprise,  if  not  incredulity.  But  incredulity  vanishes, 
were  it  added  that  the  capital  was  Moscow,  and  that  it  was  held  by  an 
invading  army  which  certain  Russians  were  willing  to  make  every  sacri¬ 
fice  to  destroy.  Extraordinary  actions,  whether  beneficent  or  destruc¬ 
tive,  may  fail  to  obtain,  or  even  to  deserve,  credence,  until  the  motives 
of  the  actors,  and  the  occasions  that  led  to  them,  are  brought  to  light. 
The  fact  of  the  Moscow  fire  is  not  disproved  by  showing  that  it  could 
not  have  kindled  itself.  The  method  of  spontaneous  combustion  is  not 
the  only  possible  method  of  accounting  for  such  an  event.  Yet  this 
assumption  fairly  describes  Huxley’s  philosophy  on  the  subject  before  us. 

Ignoring  supernatural  agency  altogether,  Huxley  is  obliged  to  ascribe 
miracles,  on  the  supposition  that  they  occur,  exclusively,  to  things  in 
Nature,  and  thus  to  make  them  at  variance  with  the  order  of  Na¬ 
ture  as  at  present  understood.  They  are  events  parallel  to  the  discov¬ 
ery  of  a  monstrosity  like  a  centaur.  This  is  an  entirely  gratuitous 
supposition.  A  miracle  does  not  disturb  our  conception  of  the  system 
of  Nature.  On  the  contrary,  if  there  were  not  an  ordinary  sequence  of 
natural  phenomena,  there  could  not  be  a  miracle,  or,  rather,  all  phenom¬ 
ena  would  be  alike  miraculous.  And  the  pliability  of  Nature  is  involved 
in  its  relation  to  God.1 

The  “ order  of  Nature”  is  an  ambiguous  phrase.  It  may  mean 
that  arrangement,  or  mutual  interaction  of  parts,  which  constitutes 
the  harmony  of  Nature.  The  “  order  of  Nature,”  in  the  sense  of 
“  harmony,”  as  Mozley  observes,  “  is  not  disturbed  by  a  miracle.”2 
The  interruption  of  a  train  of  relations,  in  one  instance,  leaves 
them  standing  in  every  other ;  i.e.  leaves  the  system,  as  such, 
untouched.”  3  To  this  it  may  be  added  that  a  miracle  is  not  in¬ 
harmonious  with  the  comprehensive  system  which  is  established 
and  maintained  by  the  Author  of  Nature,  and  in  which  “  Nature  ” 
is  but  a  single  department. 

1  On  Huxley’s  philosophy,  see  Appendix,  Note  n. 

2  Bampton  Lectures ,  p.  43.  See  Lotze’s  remarks  above,  p.  166. 

3  See  above,  p.  168. 


MIRACLES:,  THEIR  PLACE  IN  CHRISTIAN  EVIDENCES  1 73 


By  the  “order  of  Nature”  —  let  it  be  repeated  —  is  signified 
the  stated  manner  of  the  recurrence  of  physical  phenomena.  On 
this  order  rests  the  expectation  that  things  will  be  in  the  future  as 
they  have  been  in  the  past,  and  the  belief  that  they  have  been  as 
they  now  are.  This  belief  and  expectation  do  not  partake  in  the 
least  of  the  character  of  necessary  truth.  The  habitual  expecta¬ 
tion  that  the  “order  of  Nature,”  embracing  the  sequences  of  phe¬ 
nomena  which  usually  pass  under  our  observation,  will  be  subject 
to  no  interruption  in  the  future,  is  capable  of  being  reversed 
whenever  proof  is  furnished  to  the  contrary.  The  same  is  true  as 
to  the  course  of  things  in  the  past.  The  principles  of  Theism 
acquaint  us  with  the  Cause  which  is  adequate  to  produce  such  an 
interruption.  The  moral  condition  and  exigencies  of  mankind 
may  furnish  a  sufficient  motive  for  the  exertion  of  this  power  by 
the  merciful  Being  to  whom  it  belongs.  The  characteristics  of 
Christianity,  considered  apart  from  the  alleged  miracles  connected 
with  it,  predispose  the  mind  to  give  credit  to  the  testimony  on 
which  these  miracles  rest. 

We  can  hardly  expect  to  understand  fully  the  nature  of  the  miracle- 
working  power  of  Christ,  the  exercise  of  such  a  power  being  foreign  to 
our  own  experience.  It  may  be  that  in  some  cases  the  apparent  dis¬ 
turbance  of  the  ordinary  course  of  Nature  was  due  to  a  higher  physical 
law.  The  miracle  would  then  consist  in  the  knowledge  of  this  law  on 
the  part  of  Christ,  and  in  the  coincidence  of  time  with  the  purpose  it 
served  in  connection  with  him.1  In  certain  instances  effects  were  wrought 
by  Jesus  by  the  force  of  his  personality,  a  force  not  without  analogies  with¬ 
in  our  own  observation,  which,  however,  fall  too  far  short  of  the  capacity 
evinced  by  Jesus,  in  reference  to  nervous  maladies,  to  be  identified  with 
it.  In  one  instance  he  is  said  to  have  been  conscious  that  “  virtue”  had 
gone  out  of  him.  Generally  speaking,  faith  is  at  least  a  moral  prerequi¬ 
site  in  the  reception  of  the  miraculous  benefit.  It  is  well  to  remember 
that  in  regard  to  all  the  circumstances  of  miracles,  the  impressions  and 
comments  of  bystanders  are  not  to  be  considered  infallible  and  taken 
literally.  For  example,  it  need  not  be  supposed  that  dissolution  of  body 
and  spirit  had  gone  so  far  in  Lazarus  that  the  soul  had  entered  on 
a  separate,  conscious  life.  Some  there  are  who  give  full  credence  to 
miracles  wrought  upon  men,  and  this  in  respect  to  the  healing  of  mala¬ 
dies  otherwise  incurable,  but  hesitate  to  accept  as  literal  history  the 

1  This  suggestion,  with  a  wide  application  of  it  to  the  Gospel  narratives,  is 
made  by  Dr.  Temple,  now  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  in  The  Relations  of 
Religion  and  Science ,  pp.  194  seq. 


174  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


accounts  of  such  miracles  in  Nature  as  the  multiplying  of  the  loaves.1 
One  theory  is  that  the  occurrences  at  the  basis  of  these  narrations  were 
signal  acts  of  Providence  (not  supernatural),  as  to  which  Jesus  at  the 
moment  was  inspired  with  the  conviction  that  they  would  occur  —  a  feeling 
which,  so  to  speak,  he  ventured  upon.  To  those  about  him  it  seemed 
in  the  retrospect  that  they  were  external  miracles.  Opposed  to  this 
theory  is  the  fact  that  the  multiplying  of  the  loaves  stands  recorded  in  all 
the  Gospels.  So  in  all  of  them  are  narrated  instances  of  each  of  the 
species  of  miracles  wrought  upon  Nature.  The  supposition  that  a  few 
of  the  miracles  are  symbolical  —  like  parables,  a  quasz-pictonal  repre¬ 
sentation  of  spiritual  truths  —  cannot  appeal  for  support  to  the  example 
of  the  record  of  the  temptation  of  Jesus.  In  this  last  case,  the  essen¬ 
tial  fact  depicted  in  the  record  is  one  of  which  the  apostles  could  have 
no  persona]  cognizance. 

The  relation  of  miracles  to  the  eternal  proof  of  divine  revela¬ 
tion  merits  more  particular  attention.  It  has  been  already  re¬ 
marked  that  in  the  last  century  it  was  the  evidence  from  miracles 
which  the  defenders  of  Christianity  principally  relied  on.  The 
work  of  Paley  is  constructed  on  this  basis.  The  argument  for 
miracles  is  placed  by  him  in  the  foreground ;  the  testimony  in  be¬ 
half  of  them  is  set  forth  with  admirable  clearness  and  vigor,  and 
objections  are  parried  with  much  skill.  To  the  internal  evidence 
is  assigned  a  subordinate  place.  This  whole  method  of  presenting 
the  case  has  excited  in  later  times  misgivings  and  open  dissent. 
Coleridge  may  be  mentioned  as  one  of  its  earliest  censors.  The 
contents  of  Christianity  as  a  system  of  truth,  and  the  transcendent 
excellence  of  Christ,  have  been  considered  the  main  evidence  of 
the  supernatural  origin  of  the  Gospel.2  The  old  method  has  not 
been  without  conspicuous  representatives,  of  whom  the  late  Canon 
Mozley  is  one  of  the  most  notable.  But,  on  the  whole,  it  is  upon 
the  internal  argument,  in  its  various  branches,  that  the  principal 
stress  has  been  laid,  in  recent  days,  in  the  conflict  with  doubt  and 
disbelief.  In  Germany,  Schleiermacher,  whose  profound  apprecia¬ 
tion  of  the  character  of  Jesus  is  the  keynote  in  his  system,  held 
that  a  belief  in  miracles  is  not  directly  involved  in  the  faith  of  a 
Christian,  although  the  denial  of  miracles  is  evidently  destructive, 

1  Among  the  writers  of  this  class  are  Beyschlag,  Das  Leben  Jesn ,  i.  303  seq.  ; 
Weiss,  Leben  Jesu;  Bleek,  Synoptische  Enklanung  d.  drei  ersten  Evangelien. 

2  In  the  O.  T.  (Deut.  xiii.  1-6)  is  a  command  not  to  accept  a  prophet’s 
teaching,  if  it  be  impious,  even  if  it  be  sanctioned  by  signs  and  wonders,  but 
to  put  him  to  death. 


MIRACLES:  THEIR  PLACE  IN  CHRISTIAN  EVIDENCES  1 75 


as  implying  such  a  distrust  of  the  capacity  or  integrity  of  the 
*  apostles  as  would  invalidate  all  their  testimony  respecting  Christ, 
and  thus  prevent  us  from  gaining  an  authentic  impression  of  his 
person  and  character.1  Rothe,  who  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  mira¬ 
cles,  as  actual  historical  occurrences,  nevertheless  maintains  that 
the  acceptance  of  them  is  not  indispensable  to  the  attainment  of 
the  benefits  of  the  Gospel.  They  were,  in  point  of  fact,  he  tells 
us,  essential  to  the  introduction  of  Christianity  into  the  world  : 
the  rejection  of  them  is  unphilosophical,  and  contrary  to  the  con-  * 
elusion  warranted  by  historical  evidence.  But  now  that  Christ  is 
known,  and  Christianity  is  introduced  as  a  working  power  into 
history,  it  is  possible  for  those  who  doubt  about  the  miracles  to 
receive  him  in  faith,  and  through  him  to  enter  into  communion 
with  God.2 

There  can  be  no  question,  that,  at  the  present  day,  minds  which 
are  disquieted  by  doubt,  or  are  more  or  less  disinclined  to  believe 
in  revelation,  should  first  give  heed  to  the  internal  evidence.  It  is 
not  by  witnesses  to  miracles,  even  if  they  stood  before  us,  that 
scepticism  is  overcome,  where  there  is  a  lack  of  any  living  dis¬ 
cernment  of  the  peculiarity  of  the  Gospel  and  of  the  perfection 
of  its  author.  How  can  a  greater  effect  be  expected  from  mir¬ 
acles  alleged  to  have  taken  place  at  a  remote  date,  be  the  proofs 
what  they  may,  than  these  miracles  produced  upon  those  in  whose 
presence  they  were  wrought  ?  Those  who  undervalue  the  internal 
evidence,  and  place  their  reliance  on  the  argument  from  miracles, 
forget  the  declaration  of  Christ  himself,  that  there  are  moods  of 
disbelief  which  the  resurrection  of  a  man  from  the  dead,  when 
witnessed  by  themselves,  would  not  dispel.  They  forget  the  pos¬ 
ture  of  mind  of  many  who  had  the  highest  possible  proof  of  an 
external  nature  that  miracles  were  done  by  him  and  by  the  apos¬ 
tles.  Moreover,  they  fail  to  consider,  that,  for  the  establishment 
of  miracles  as  matters  of  fact,  something  more  is  required  than  a 
scrutiny  such  as  would  suffice  for  the  proof  of  ordinary  occur¬ 
rences.  It  is  manifest  that  all  those  characteristics  of  Christ  and 
of  Christianity  which  predispose  us  to  attribute  it  to  a  miraculous 
origin  are  of  weight  as  proof  of  the  particular  miracles  said  to 
have  taken  place  in  connection  with  it. 

At  the  same  time,  miracles,  and  the  proof  of  miracles  from  tes¬ 
timony,  cannot  be  spared.  When  the  peculiarities  which  distin- 
1  Christl.  Glaube ,  vol.  ii.  p.  88.  2  Zur  Dogmcitik,  p.  ill. 


1/6  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


guished  Christianity  from  all  other  religions  have  impressed  the 
mind,  when  the  character  of  Christ  in  its  unique  and  supernal 
quality  has  risen  before  us  in  its  full  attractive  power,  and  when, 
from  these  influences,  we  are  almost  persuaded,  at  least  not  a  little 
inclined,  to  believe  in  the  Gospel  as  a  revelation  of  God,  we  spon¬ 
taneously  crave  some  attestation  of  an  objective  character.  We 
naturally  expect,  that,  if  all  this  be  really  upon  a  plane  above  Na¬ 
ture,  there  will  be  some  explicit  sign  and  confirmation  of  the  fact. 
Such  attestation  being  wanting,  the  question  recurs  whether  there 
may  not  be,  after  all,  some  occult  power  of  Nature  to  which  the 
moral  phenomena  of  Christianity  might  be  traced.  Can  we  be 
sure  that  we  are  not  still  among  “  second  causes’’  alone,  in  con¬ 
tact  with  a  human  wisdom,  which,  however  exalted,  is  still  human, 
and  not  unmingled  with  error  ?  Are  we  certain  that  we  have  not 
here  merely  a  flower  in  the  garden  of  Nature,  —  a  flower,  perhaps, 
of  unmatched  beauty  and  delicious  fragrance,  yet  a  product  of  the 
earth?  It  is  just  at  this  point  that  the  record  of  miracles  comes 
in  to  meet  a  rational  expectation,  to  give  their  full  effect  to  other 
considerations  where  the  suspicion  of  a  subjective  bias  may  in¬ 
trude,  and  to  fortify  a  belief  which  needs  a  support  of  just  this 
nature.  The  agency  of  God  in  connection  with  the  origin  of 
Christianity  is  manifested  to  the  senses,  as  well  as  to  the  reason 
and  the  heart.  Not  simply  a  wisdom  that  is  more  than  human,  a 
virtue  of  which  there  is  no  parallel  in  human  experience,  a  merci¬ 
ful,  renovating  influence  not  referable  to  any  creed  or  philosophy 
of  man’s  device,  make  their  appeal  to  the  sense  of  the  super¬ 
natural  and  divine.  Not  disconnected  from  these  supernatural 
tokens,  but  mingling  with  them,  are  manifestations  of  a  power 
exceeding  that  of  Nature  —  a  power  equally  characteristic  of  God 
and  identifying  the  Author  of  Nature  with  the  Being  of  whom 
Christ  is  the  messenger.  Strip  the  manifestation  of  this  ingre¬ 
dient  of  power,  and  an  element  is  lacking  for  its  full  effect.  The 
other  parts  of  the  manifestation  excite  a  willingness  to  believe,  a 
reasonable  anticipation  that  the  one  missing  element  is  associated 
with  them.  When  this  anticipation  is  verified  by  answering  proof, 
the  argument  is  complete.  An  inchoate  faith  rises  into  an  assured 
confidence.  It  is  true  that,  according  to  the  Gospel  histories,  Jesus 
deprecated  an  appetite  for  displays  of  miraculous  power.  When 
the  Pharisees  challenged  him  to  exhibit  a  peculiar,  overpowering 
proof  of  his  Messiahship,  “  a  sign  from  heaven,”  he  refused  the 


MIRACLES:  THEIR  PLACE  IN  CHRISTIAN  EVIDENCES  1 77 

demand  which  they  made,  “  tempting  him,”  that  is,  asking  some¬ 
thing  which  they  knew  that  he  would  refuse.  The  miracles  which 
he  had  performed  did  not  satisfy  them.1  There  were  other  than 
miraculous  signs  of  the  presence  of  God  and  proofs  that  the  Mes¬ 
siah  had  come,  which  it  only  needed  a  spiritual  discernment  to 
perceive.  Except  for  the  sake  of  relieving  pain  and  sorrow,  if  he 
worked  miracles,  it  was  seemingly  under  a  protest. 

The  importance  of  the  evidence  for  miracles,  then,  does  not 
rest  solely  on  the  ground,  that,  if  it  be  discredited,  the  value  of 
the  apostles’  testimony  respecting  other  aspects  of  the  life  of  Christ 
is  seriously  weakened.  The  several  proofs  need  the  miracles  as 
a  complement  in  order  to  give  them  full  efficacy,  and  to  remove 
a  difficulty  which  otherwise  stands  in  the  way  of  the  conviction 
which  they  tend  to  create.  Miracles,  it  may  also  be  affirmed, 
are  component  parts  of  that  Gospel  which  is  the  object  of  belief. 
Not  only  are  they  parts,  and  not  merely  accessories,  of  the  act 
of  revelation,  they  are  also  comprehended  within  the  work  of 
deliverance  through  Christ  — the  redemption  which  is  the  object 
of  the  Christian  faith.  This  is  evidently  true  of  his  resurrection, 
in  which  his  victory  over  sin  was  seen  in  its  appropriate  fruit,  and 
his  victory  over  death  was  realized  —  realized,  as  well  as  demon¬ 
strated  to  man. 

In  fine,  miracles  are  the  complement  of  the  internal  evidence. 
The  two  sorts  of  proof  lend  support  each  to  the  other,  and  they 
conspire  together  to  satisfy  the  candid  inquirer  that  Christianity 
is  of  supernatural  origin. 

1  Matt.  xvi.  i;  cf.  Mark  viii.  11  seq.  See  also  Weiss,  Leben  Jesu ,  vol.  ii. 
pp.  221  seq. 


CHAPTER  IX 


PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES  OF  CHRIST  INDEPENDENTLY  OF  SPECIAL 
INQUIRY  INTO  THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  GOSPELS 

The  reader  will  bear  in  mind  that  we  propose  to  reason,  for  the 
present,  on  the  basis  of  views  respecting  the  origin  of  the  Gospels 
which  do  not  clash  with  those  commonly  accepted  by  critics  of 
the  sceptical  schools.  Let  it  be  assumed  that  the  traditions  which 
are  collected  in  the  Gospels  of  the  canon  are  of  unequal  value, 
and  that  all  of  these  books  were  composed  later  than  the  dates 
in  the  established  tradition.  Still  it  is  maintained  that,  even  on 
this  hypothesis,  the  essential  facts  which  are  related  by  the 
Evangelists,  can  be  established.  In  this  chapter  it  is  proposed 
to  bring  forward  evidence  to  prove  that  miracles  were  wrought 
by  Jesus  substantially  as  related  by  them. 

I.  The  fact  that  the  apostles  themselves  professed  to  work 
miracles  and  to  do  this  by  a  power  derived  from  Christ,  makes 
it  altogether  probable  that  they  believed  miracles  to  have  been 
wrought  by  him. 

The  point  to  be  shown  is,  that  narratives  of  miracles  performed 
by  Christ  were  embraced  in  the  accounts  which  the  apostles  were 
in  the  habit  of  giving  of  his  life.  A  presumptive  proof  of  this 
proposition  is  drawn  from  the  circumstance  that  they  themselves, 
in  fulfilling  the  office  to  which  they  were  appointed  by  him,  pro¬ 
fessed  to  work  miracles,  and  considered  this  an  indispensable 
criterion  of  their  divine  mission.  There  is  no  doubt  of  the  fact 
as  here  stated.  Few  scholars  now  hold  that  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  was  written  by  Paul.  Some  follow  an  ancient  opinion, 
which  Grotius  held,  and  to  which  Calvin  was  inclined,  that 
Luke  wrote  it.  Others  attribute  it  to  Barnabas.  Many  are  dis¬ 
posed,  with  Luther,  to  consider  Apollos  its  author.  It  is  a  ques¬ 
tion  which  we  have  no  occasion  to  discuss  here.  The  date  of 
the  Epistle  is  the  only  point  that  concerns  us  at  present.  It  was 
used  by  Clement  of  Rome  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  and 

178 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  TIIE  MIRACLES 


179 


therefore  must  have  existed  as  early  as  a.d.  97.  Zahn,  one  of 
the  latest  and  most  learned  scholars  who  has  discussed  the 
question,  places  the  date  at  about  a.d.  80.1  Harnack  considers 
the  probable  date  to  be  not  far  from  65. 2  Weiss  places  it  before 
the  year  70.3  A  large  number  of  critics,  including  adherents  of 
opposite  creeds  in  theology,  infer,  from  passages  in  the  Epistle 
itself,  that  the  temple  at  Jerusalem  was  still  standing  when  it  was 
written.4 5  Hilgenfeld,  the  ablest  representative  of  the  Tubingen 
school,  is  of  opinion  that  Apollos  wrote  it  before  a.d.  67?  Be 
this  as  it  may,  its  author  was  well  qualified  to  speak  of  the  course 
pursued  by  the  apostles  in  their  ministry.6  Now  he  tells  us  that 
their  divine  mission  was  confirmed  by  the  miracles  which  they 
did  :  “  God  also  bearing  them  witness,  both  with  signs  and  won¬ 
ders,  and  with  divers  miracles,  and  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost.”  7 
The  same  thing  is  repeatedly  asserted  by  the  Apostle  Paul. 
“  Working  miracles  among  you  ” 8  is  the  phrase  which  he  uses 
when  speaking  of  what  he  himself  had  done  in  Galatia.  If  we 
give  to  the  preposition,  as  perhaps  we  should,  its  literal  sense 
“  in,”  the  meaning  is,  that  the  apostle  had  imparted  to  his  con¬ 
verts  the  power  to  work  miracles.9  In  the  Epistles  to  the  Romans 
he  explicitly  refers  to  “  the  mighty  signs  and  wonders  ”  which 
Christ  had  wrought  by  him  :  it  was  by  “  deed,”  as  well  as  by 
word,  that  he  had  succeeded  in  convincing  a  multitude  of  brethren.10 
How,  indeed  we  might  stop  to  ask,  could  such  an  effect  have 
been  produced  at  that  time  in  the  heathen  world  by  “  word  ” 
alone?  But  in  the  Second  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians  he  reminds 
them  that  miracles  —  “signs  and  wonders  and  mighty  deeds” 
—  had  been  wrought  by  him  before  their  eyes ;  and  he  calls  them 
“the  signs,”  not  of  an  apostle,  as  the  Authorized  Version  has  it, 
but  of  “  the  apostle.”  11  They  are  the  credentials  of  the  apostolic 
office.  By  these  an  apostle  is  known  to  be  what  he  professes 
to  be.  In  working  miracles  he  had  exhibited  the  characteristic 
marks  of  an  apostle.  The  author  of  the  book  of.  Acts^  then, 
goes  no  farther  than  Paul  himself  goes,  when  that  author  ascribes 


1  Einl.  in  d.  IV.  Test.,  vol.  ii.  s.  148. 

2  Chronologie,  vol.  i.  p.  718. 

3  Einl.  in  d.  N.  Test.,  p.  329. 

4  See  Heb.  vii.  9,  viii.  3,  ix.  4. 

5  Einl.  in  d.  N.  Test.,  p.  388. 

6  Heb.  ii.  3. 


7  Ibid.,  ver.  5. 

8  evepydv  dvvdpeLS  ev  vp.iv,  Gal.  iii.  5* 

9  Cf.  Lightfoot  and  Meyer,  ad  loc. 

10  Rom.  xv.  18-20. 

11  2  Cor.  xii.  12. 


l80  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


to  the  apostles  “  many  wonders  and  signs.”  1  It  is  in  the  highest 
degree  probable,  in  the  light  of  the  passages  quoted  from  Paul, 
that,  if  he  and  Barnabas  had  occasion  to  vindicate  themselves  and 
their  work,  they  would  declare,  as  the  author  of  Acts  affirms  they 
did,  “what  miracles  and  wonders  God  had  wrought  among  the 
Gentiles  by  them.”2  Now  we  advance  another  step.  In  each 
of  the  first  three  Gospels  the  direction  to  work  miracles  is  a 
part  of  the  brief  commission  given  by  Christ  to  the  apostles.3  If 
the  apostles  could  remember  anything  correctly,  would  they 
forget  the  terms  of  this  brief,  momentous  charge  from  the  Master? 
This,  if  anything,  would  be  handed  down  in  an  authentic  form. 
In  the  charge  when  the  apostles  were  first  sent  out,  as  it  is  given 
in  Matthew,  they  were  to  confine  their  labors  to  the  Jews — to 
“  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel.”  They  were  not  even  to 
go  at  that  time  to  the  Samaritans.  This  injunction  is  a  strong 
confirmation  of  the  exactness  of  the  report  in  the  first  Evangelist. 
Coupling  the  known  fact,  that  the  working  of  miracles  was  con¬ 
sidered  by  the  apostles  a  distinguishing  sign  of  their  office,  with 
the  united  testimony  of  the  first  three  Gospels,  —  the  Gospels  in 
which  the  appointment  of  the  Twelve  is  recorded,  —  it  may  be 
safely  concluded  that  Jesus  did  then  tell  them  to  “heal  the 
sick,  cleanse  the  lepers,  raise  the  dead,  cast  out  devils.”  He 
told  them  to  preach,  and  to  verify  their  authority  as  teachers  by 
this  merciful  exertion  of  powers  greater  than  belong  to  man.  Is  it 
probable  that  he  expected  them  to  furnish  proofs  of  a  kind  which 
had  not  been  furnished  himself  ?  Did  he  direct  them  to  do  what 
they  had  never  seen  him  do  ?  Did  he  profess  to  communicate 
to  his  apostles  a  power  which  he  had  given  them  no  evidence  of 
possessing  ? 

II.  Injunctions  of  Jesus  not  to  report  his  miracles,  it  is  evi¬ 
dent,  are  truthfully  imputed  to  him ;  and  this  proves  that  the 
events  to  which  they  relate  actually  took  place. 

It  is  frequently  said  in  the  Gospels,  that  Jesus  enjoined  upon 
those  whom  he  miraculously  healed  not  to  make  it  publicly 
known.4  He  was  anxious  that  the  miracle  should  not  be  noised 

1  Acts  ii.  43,  cf.  iv.  30,  v.  12,  xiv.  3. 

2  Ibid.,  xv.  12,  cf.  ver.  4. 

3  Matt.  x.  1,  8;  Mark  iii.  15;  Luke  ix.  2;  cf.  Luke  x.  9. 

4  Ibid.,  ix.  30,  xii.  16,  xvii.  9;  Mark  iii.  12,  v.  43,  vii.  36,  viii.  26,  ix.  9; 
Luke  v.  14,  viii.  56. 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES  l8l 

abroad.  For  instance,  it  is  said  in  Mark,  that  in  the  neighbor¬ 
hood  of  Bethsaida  he  sent  home  a  blind  man  whom  he  had  cured, 
saying,  “  Neither  go  into  the  town,  nor  tell  it  to  any  in  the  town.” 1 
The  motive  is  plainly  indicated.  Jesus  had  to  guard  against  a 
popular  uprising,  than  which  nothing  was  easier  to  provoke  among 
the  inflammable  inhabitants  of  Galilee.  There  were  times,  it 
costs  no  effort  to  believe,  when  they  were  eager  to  make  him  a 
king.2  He  had  to  conceal  himself  from  the  multitude.  He  had 
to  withdraw  into  retired  places.  It  was  necessary  for  him  to  re¬ 
cast  utterly  the  popular  conception  of  the  Messiah,  and  this  was 
a  slow  and  well-nigh  impossible  task.  It  was  a  political  leader 
amFruier  whom  the  people  looked  for.  It  was  hard  to  educate 
even  the  disciples  out  of  the  old  prepossession.  Hence  he  used 
great  reserve  and  caution  in  announcing  himself  as  the  Messiah. 
He  made  himself  known  by  degrees.  When  Peter  uttered  his 
glowing  confession  of  faith,  Jesus  charged  him  and  his  compan¬ 
ions  “  that  they  should  tell  no  man  of  him  ”  ;  that  is,  they  should 
keep  to  themselves  their  knowledge  that  he  was  the  Christ.3  The 
interdict  against  publishing  abroad  his  miracles  is  therefore  quite 
in  keeping  with  a  portion  of  the  evangelic  tradition  that  is  in¬ 
dubitably  authentic.  On  the  other  hand,  such  an  interdict  is  a 
thing  which  it  would  occur  to  nobody  to  invent.  It  is  the  last 
thing  which  contrivers  of  miraculous  tales  (unless  they  had  be¬ 
fore  them  the  model  of  the  Gospels)  would  be  likely  to  imagine. 
No  plausible  motive  can  be  thought  of  for  attributing  falsely  such 
injunctions  to  Jesus,  unless  it  is  assumed  that  there  was  a  desire 
to  account  for  the  alleged  miracles  not  being  more  widely  known. 
But  this  would  imply  intentional  falsehood  in  the  first  narrators, 
whoever  they  were.  Even  this  supposition,  in  itself  most  un¬ 
likely,  is  completely  excluded,  because  the  prohibitions  are  gen¬ 
erally  said  to  have  proved  ineffectual.  It  is  commonly  added  in  the 
Gospels,  that  the  individuals  who  were  healed  of  their  maladies 
did  not  heed  them,  but  blazed  abroad  the  fact  of  their  miraculous 
cure.  Since  the  injunctions  imposing  silence  are  authentic, 
the  miracles,  without  which  they  are  meaningless,  must  have 
been  wrought.  It  is  worthy  of  note,  that,  when  the  maniac  of 
Gadara  was  restored  to  health,  Jesus  did  not  lay  this  command¬ 
ment  on  him.  He  sent  him  to  his  home,  bidding  him  tell  his 


1  Mark  viii.  26. 


2  John  vi.  15. 


3  Mark  viii.  30;  Luke  ix.  21. 


1 82  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


friends  of  his  experience  of  the  mercy  of  God.1  Connected  with 
the  narratives  of  miracles,  both  before  and  just  after  in  the  same 
chapter,2  we  find  the  usual  charge  not  to  tell  what  had  been 
done.  Why  not  in  this  instance  of  the  madman  of  Gadara?  The 
reason  would  seem  to  have  been,  that,  in  that  region  where  Jesus 
had  not  taught,  and  where  he  did  not  purpose  to  remain,  the 
same  danger  from  publicity  did  not  exist.  To  be  sure,  the  man 
was  not  told  “to  publish”  the  miracle  “in  Decapolis,”  as  he 
proceeded  to  do ;  but  no  pains  were  taken  to  prevent  him  from 
doing  this.  He  was  left  at  liberty  to  act  in  this  respect  as  he 
pleased.  The  Evangelist  does  not  call  our  attention  in  any  way 
j  to  this  peculiarity  of  the  Gadara  miracle.  It  is  thus  an  unde¬ 
signed  confirmation  of  the  truth  of  the  narrative,  and  at  the  same 
time  of  the  other  narratives  with  which  the  injunction  to  observe 
silence  is  connected. 

III.  Cautions.,  plainly  authentic,  against  an  excessive  esteem  of 
miracles,  are  a  proof  that  they  were  actually  wrought. 

No  one  who  falsely  sets  up  to  be  a  miracle-worker  seeks  to 
lower  the  popular  esteem  of  miracles.  Such  a  one  never  chides 
the  wonder-loving  spirit.  The  same  is  equally  true  of  those  who 
imagine  or  otherwise  fabricate  stories  of  miracles.  The  moods 
of  mind  out  of  which  fictions  of  this  kind  are  hatched  are  incom¬ 
patible  with  anything  like  a  disparagement  of  miracles.  The 
tendency  will  be  to  make  as  much  of  them  as  possible.  Now, 
the  Gospel  records  represent  Christ  as  taking  the  opposite  course, 
“Except  ye  see  signs  and  wonders,  ye  will  not  believe.”  3  This 
implies  that  there  were  higher  grounds  of  faith.  It  is  an  expres¬ 
sion  of  blame.  “  Believe  me  that  I  am  in  the  Father,  and  the 

Father  in  me  :  or  else  believe  me  for  the  very  works’  sake.”  4 

* 

That  is,  if  you  cannot  take  my  word  for  it,  then  let  the  miracles 
convince  you.  Under  the  designation  “works,”  miraculous  works 
must  have  been  included.5  It  would  almost  seem,  as  already 
remarked,  that  Christ  performed  his  miracles  under  a  protest, 
save  as  they  were  called  for  in  order  to  relieve  or  to  console  the 
suffering.  He  refused  to  do  a  miracle  where  there  was  not  a 
germ  of  faith  beforehand.  In  the  first  three  Gospels  there  is  the 
same  relative  estimate  of  miracles  as  in  the  fourth.  If  men  form 


1  Mark  v.  19. 

2  Ibid.,  iii.  12,  v.  43. 

3  John  iv.  48. 


4  Ibid.,  xiv.  1 1. 

5  As  in  Matt.  xi.  21;  Luke  x.  13. 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES 


183 


an  opinion  about  the  weather  by  the  looks  of  the  sky,  they  ought 
to  be  convinced  by  “  the  signs  of  the  times,”  in  which,  if  the 
miracles  are  comprised,  it  is  only  as  one  element  in  the  collective 
manifestation  of  Christ.1  When  the  seventy  disciples  returned 
full  of  joy  that  they  had  not  only  been  able  to  heal  the  sick,  but 
also  to  deliver  demoniacs  from  their  distress,2  —  which  had  not 
been  explicitly  promised  them  when  they  went  forth,  —  Jesus 
sympathized  with  their  joy.  He  beheld  before  his  mind’s  eye  the 
swift  downfall  of  the  dominating  spirit  of  evil,  and  he  assured  the 
disciples  that  further  miraculous  power  should  be  given  to  them. 
But  he  added,  “  Notwithstanding,  in  this  rejoice  not  that  the 
spirits  are  subject  unto  you ;  but  rather  rejoice,  because  your 
names  are  written  in  heaven.”  They  were  not  to  plume  them¬ 
selves  on  the  supernatural  power  exercised,  or  to  be  exercised, 
by  them.  They  were  not  to  make  it  a  ground  of  self-congratula-  • 
tion.  These  statements  of  Jesus,  be  it  observed,  for  the  reasons 
stated  above,  verify  themselves  as  authentic.  And  they  presup¬ 
pose  the  reality  of  the  miracles.  They  show,  it  may  be  added, 
that  the  disciples  were  trained  by  Jesus  not  to  indulge  a  wonder- 
loving  spirit,  and  thus  guarded  against  this  source  of  self-decep¬ 
tion. 

IV.  Teaching  of  Jesus  which  is  evidently  genuine  is  inseparable 
from  certain  miracles ;  in  other  words,  the  miracles  cannot  be 
dissected  out  of  authentic  teaching  and  incidents  with  which  they 
are  connected  in  the  narrative.  A  few  illustrations  will  prove  this 
to  be  the  case. 

1.  John  the  Baptist,  being  then  in  prison,  sent  two  of  his 
disciples  to  ask  Jesus  if  he  was  indeed  the  Messiah.3  A  doubt 
had  sprung  up  in  his  mind.  This  is  an  incident  which  nobody 
would  have  invented.  In  proof  of  this,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  an 
effort  has  been  made,  by  commentators  who  have  caught  up  a 
suggestion  of  Origen,  to  explain  away  the  fact.  It  has  been  con¬ 
jectured  that  the  message  was  probably  to  satisfy  some  of  John’s 
sceptical  disciples.  There  is  not  a  syllable  in  the  narrative  to 
countenance  this  view.  It  is  excluded  by  the  message  which  the 
disciples  were  to  carry  from  Christ  to  John,  “  Blessed  is  he  who¬ 
soever  shall  not  be  offended  in  me.”  That  is,  blessed  is  the  man 

1  Matt.  xvi.  3. 

2  Such  is  the  force  of  the  Kal  (in  the  /ecu  ra  8cu/jl6vl<i,  etc.),  Luke  x.  17. 

3  Matt.  xi.  4  ;  Luke  vii.  22. 


1 84  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


who  is  not  led  to  disbelieve  because  the  course  that  I  take  does 
not  answer  to  his  ideal  of  the  Messiah.  There  is  no  reason  to 
think  that  John’s  mind  was  free  from  those  more  or  less  sensuous 
anticipations  concerning  Christ  and  his  kingdom  which  the 
apostles,  even  after  they  had  long  been  with  Jesus,  had  not 
shaken  off.  He  had  foretold  that  the  Messiah  was  to  have  a  “  fan 
in  his  hand,”  was  to  “  gather  his  wheat  into  the  garner,”  and 
to  “burn  up  the  chaff.”1  He  was  perplexed  that  Jesus  took  no 
more  decisive  step,  that  no  great  overturning  had  come.  Was 
Jesus,  after  all,  the  Messiah  himself,  or  was  he  a  precursor?  If, 
in  his  prison  there,  the  faith  of  John  for  the  moment  faltered,  it 
was  nothing  worse  than  was  true  of  Moses  and  Elijah,  the  greatest 
of  the  old  prophets.  The  commendation  of  John  which  Jesus 
uttered  in  the  hearing  of  the  bystanders,  immediately  after  he  bad 
sent  back  the  disciples,  was  probably  designed  to  efface  any  im¬ 
pression  unfavorable  to  the  Baptist  which  might  have  been  left  on 
their  minds.  This  eulogy  is  another  corroboration  of  the  truth  of 
the  narrative.  The  same  is  true  of  his  closing  words,  “Notwith¬ 
standing,  he  that  is  least  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  greater 
than  he.”  They  suggest  the  limit  of  John’s  insight  into  the 
nature  of  the  kingdom.  It  is  an  unquestionable  fact,  therefore, 
that  the  inquiry  was  sent  by  John.  Nor  can  it  be  denied  that 
Jesus  returned  the  following  answer,  “  Go  and  show  John  again 
those  things  which  ye  do  hear  and  see  :  the  blind  receive  their 
sight,  and  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  and  the  deaf 
hear,  the  dead  are  raised  up,  and  the  poor  have  the  gospel 
preached  to  them.”  The  messengers  were  to  describe  to  John 
the  miracles  which  Jesus  was  doing, —  Luke  expressly  adds  that 
they  themselves  were  witnesses  of  them,  —  and  to  assure  him,  that 
in  addition  to  these  signs  of  the  Messianic  era  which  Isaiah  had  pre¬ 
dicted,2  to  the  poor  the  good  news  of  the  speedy  advent  of  the  king¬ 
dom  were  proclaimed.  The  message  of  Jesus  had  no  ambiguity. 
It  meant  what  the  Evangelists  understood  it  to  mean.  The  idea  that 
he  was  merely  using  symbols  to  denote  the  spiritual  effect  of  his 
preaching  is  a  mere  subterfuge  of  interpreters  who  cannot  otherwise 
avoid  the  necessity  of  admitting  the  fact  of  miracles.  What  sort  of 
satisfaction  would  it  have  given  John,  in  the  state  of  mind  in  which 
he  then  was,  to  be  assured  simply  that  the  teaching  of  Jesus  was 
causing  great  pleasure,  and  doing  a  great  deal  of  good?  The 
1  Matt.  iii.  12.  2  Isa.  xxxv.  5,  6. 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  TPIE  MIRACLES 


185 


same,  or  almost  as  much,  he  knew  to  be  true  of  his  own  preach¬ 
ing.  What  he  needed  to  learn,  and  what  he  did  learn  from  his 
messengers,  was,  that  the  miracles  of  which  he  had  heard  were 
really  done,  and  to  be  reminded  of  their  significance. 

2.  The  Gospels  record  several  controversies  of  Jesus  with 
over-rigid  observers  of  the  sabbath.  They  found  fault  with  him 
for  laxness  in  this  particular.  On  one  occasion  he  is  said  to  have 
met  a  reproach  of  this  kind  with  the  retort,  “  Which  of  you  shall 
have  an  ass  or  an  ox  fallen  into  a  pit,  and  will  not  straightway 
pull  him  out  on  the  sabbath  day  ?  ” 1  It  has  been  said  of  the 
books  written  by  the  companions  of  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena,  that 
it  is  not  difficult  to  mark  off  what  he  really  said,  his  sayings  hav¬ 
ing  a  recognizable  style  of  their  own.  They  who  maintain  that  a 
like  distinction  is  to  be  drawn  in  the  Gospels  among  the  reported 
sayings  of  Christ  have  to  concede  that  he  uttered  the  words  above 
quoted.  They  are  characteristic  words.  Even  Strauss  holds  that 
they  were  spoken  by  him.  If  so,  on  what  occasion  ?  Luke  says 
that  it  was  on  the  occasion  of  Christ’s  healing  a  man  who  had  the 
dropsy.  There  must  have  been  a  rescue  from  soiiie  evil.  The 
evil  must  have  been  a  very  serious  one  :  otherwise  the  parable  of 
the  ox  or  the  ass  falling  into  a  pit  would  be  out  of  place.  What 
more  proof  is  wanted  of  the  correctness  of  the  evangelic  tradition, 
and  thus  of  the  miracle  ?  On  another  sabbath  he  is  said  to  have 
cured  a  woman,  who,  from  a  muscular  disorder,  had  been  bowed 
down  for  eighteen  years.  His  reply  to  his  censors  is  equally 
characteristic.2  If  the  reply  was  made,  the  miracle  that  occasioned 
it  was  done.  On  still  another  occasion  of  the  same  kind  he  added 
to  the  illustration  of  a  sheep  falling  into  a  pit  the  significant  ques¬ 
tion,  “  How  much,  then,  is  a  man  better  than  a  sheep?  ”  3  If  he 
uttered  these  words,  then  he  healed  a  man  with  a  withered  hand. 
Unless  he  had  just  saved  a  man  from  some  grievous  peril,  the  ques¬ 
tion  is  meaningless. 

3.  In  Matthew,  Mark,  and  Luke  it  is  related  that  Jesus  was 
charged  by  the  Pharisees  with  casting  out  demons  through  the 
help  of  Beelzebub  their  prince.4  The  conversation  that  ensued 
upon  this  accusation  is  given.  Jesus  exposed  the  absurdity  of  the 
charge.  It  implied  that  Satan  was  working  against  himself,  and 
for  the  subversion  of  his  own  kingdom,  “  If  a  house  be  divided 

1  Luke  xiv.  5.  2  Ibid.,  xiii.  15.  3  Matt.  xii.  12. 

4  Ibid.,  xii.  22-31;  Mark  iii.  22-31;  Luke  xi.  14-23. 


1 86  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


against  itself,  that  house  cannot  stand.”1  The  conversation  is 
stamped  with  internal  marks  of  authenticity.  The  fact  of  this 
charge  having  been  made  against  Christ  was  inwrought  into  the 
evangelic  tradition.  Now,  the  occasion  of  the  debate  was  the 
cure  of  a  man  who  was  blind  and  dumb.  The  reader  may  con¬ 
sider  demoniacal  possession  to  be  a  literal  fact,  or  nothing  more 
than  a  popular  idea  or  theory  :  in  either  case  the  phenomena  — 
epilepsy,  lunacy,  etc.  —  were  what  presented  themselves  to  obser¬ 
vation.  It  may  be  said  that  the  Jews  had  exorcists.  Jesus  implies 
this  when  he  asks,  “  By  whom  do  your  children  ”  —  that  is,  your 
disciples  —  “cast  them  out?”  Exorcism  as  practised  even  early 
by  the  Jews  is  referred  to  by  Josephus.2  Manipulations  and  dif¬ 
ferent  sorts  of  jugglery  mingled  in  it.  That  cases  should  occur 
in  which  actual  effects  should  be  produced  upon  credulous  per¬ 
sons  is  not  strange.  Yet  the  cures  of  this  sort  which  were  ef¬ 
fected  by  Christ  must  have  included  aggravated  cases  of  mental 
and  physical  disorder,  or  they  must  have  been  wrought  with  a 
uniformity  which  distinguished  them  from  similar  relief  adminis¬ 
tered  by  others,  sometimes  through  the  medium  of  prayer  and 
fasting.  There  was  an  evident  contrast  between  the  power  ex¬ 
erted  by  him  in  such  cases  and  that  with  which  the  Pharisees  were 
acquainted.  This  is  implied  in  the  astonishment  which  this  class 
of  miracles  is  represented  to  have  called  forth.  It  is  implied, 
also,  in  the  fact  that  the  accusation  of  a  league  with  Satan  was 
brought  against  him.  They  had  to  assert  this,  or  else  admit  that 
it  was  “with  the  finger  of  God  ”  that  he  cast  out  devils.3  “He 
commanded  the  unclean  spirits,  and  they  obeyed  him.” 

4.  We  find  both  in  Matthew  and  Luke  a  passage  in  which 
woes  are  uttered  concerning  certain  cities  of  Galilee  for  remaining 
impenitent.4  There  is  no  reason  for  doubting  that  they  were 
uttered  by  Jesus.  There  is  a  question  as  to  the  time  when  they 
were  uttered,  unless  it  be  assumed  that  they  were  spoken  on  two 
different  occasions ;  but  that  chronological  question  is  immaterial 
here.  The  authenticity  of  the  tradition  is  confirmed,  if  confirma¬ 
tion  were  required,  by  the  mention  of  Bethsaida  and  Chorazin. 
No  account  of  miracles  wrought  in  these  towns  is  embraced  in 
either  of  the  Gospels.5  Had  the  passage  been  put  into  the 

1  Mark  iii.  25.  2  Antiquities ,  B.  viii.  c.  2.  3  Luke  xi.  20. 

4  Matt.  xi.  20-25;  Luke  x.  13-16. 

6  The  Bethsaida  of  Mark  viii.  22  was  another  place,  northeast  of  the  lake. 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES 


IS/ 


mouth  of  Jesus  falsely,  there  would  naturally  have  been  framed  a 
narrative  to  match  it.  There  would  have  stood  in  connection 
with  it  a  description,  briefer  or  longer,  of  miracles  alleged  to  have 
been  done  in  those  towns.  Moreover,  “  in  that  same  hour,”  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  first  Gospel,  Jesus  uttered  a  fervent  thanksgiving 
that  the  truth,  hidden  from  the  wise,  had  been  revealed  to  the 
simple-hearted,1 — a  passage  that  needs  no  vindication  of  its 
authenticity.  This  outpouring  of  emotion  is  a  natural  sequel  to 
the  sorrowful  impression  made  on  him  by  the  obduracy  of  the  Gal¬ 
ilean  cities.  In  Luke  there  is  the  same  succession  of  moods  of 
feeling,  although  the  juxtaposition  of  the  two  passages  is  not  quite 
so  close.  Now,  what  is  the  ground  of  this  condemnation  of 
Capernaum,  Chorazin,  and  Bethsaida?  It  is  “  the  mighty  works” 
which  they  had  witnessed.  This  privilege  makes  their  guilt  more 
heinous  than  that  of  Tyre  and  Sidon.  It  is  the  reference  to  the 
miracles  which  gives  point  to  the  denunciation. 

5.  The  manner  in  which  faith  appears  as  the  concomitant  and 
prerequisite  of  miracles  is  a  strong  confirmation  of  the  evangelical 
narratives.  Faith  is  required  of  the  apostles  for  the  performance 
of  miraculous  works.  They  fail  in  the  attempt  from  lack  of  faith.2 
They  are  told,  that  with  faith  nothing  is  beyond  their  power. 
But  it  is  not  their  own  strength  which  they  are  to  exert.  They 
lay  hold  of  the  power  of  God,  and  in  that  power  they  control  the 
forces  of  Nature.  So  applicants  for  miraculous  help  must  come  to 
Jesus  with  faith  in  his  ability  to  relieve  them.  The  exertion  of  his 
restorative  power  is  in  response  to  trust.  In  one  place,  he  “  did 
not  many  mighty  works,”  because  of  the  unbelief  there.3  The 
references  to  faith  as  thus  connected  with  miracles  are  numerous. 
They  are  varied  in  form,  obviously  artless  and  uncontrived.  They 
are  an  undesigned  voucher  for  the  truth  of  the  narratives  in  which 
they  mingle.4 

6.  In  connection  with  one  miracle  there  is  instruction  as  to 
its  design  which  it  is  difficult  to  believe  did  not  emanate  from 
Jesus.  It  is  embedded  in  the  heart  of  the  narrative,  as  it  was  an 


1  Matt.  xi.  25-28.  2  Mark  ix.  18;  Luke  ix.  40.  3  Matt.  xiii.  58. 

4  See  Matt.  viii.  10  (Luke  vii.  9),  ix.  2  (Mark  ii.  5;  Luke  v.  20),  ix.  22 
(Mark  v.  34,  x.  52),  xvii.  20  (Luke  xvii.  6);  Luke  viii.  48,  xvii.  19; 
Matt.  xv.  28;  Luke  vii.  50,  xviii.  42;  Mark  v.  36,  ix.  23;  Matt.  viii.  13;  John 
iv.  50,  ix.  38;  Acts  iii.  16,  xiv.  9. 


1 88  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


essential  part  of  the  transaction.1  He  is  in  a  house  at  Capernaum 
surrounded  by  a  crowd.  A  paralytic  is  brought  by  four  men,  and 
is  let  down  through  the  roof,  this  being  the  only  means  of  bringing 
him  near  Jesus.  Seeing  their  faith,  he  said  tenderly  to  the  para¬ 
lytic,  “Son  (or  child),  be  of  good  courage  :  thy  sins  are  forgiven 
thee.”  The  disease,  we  are  led  to  infer,  was  the  result  of  sin,  it 
may  be  of  sensuality.  The  sufferer’s  pain  of  heart  Jesus  first 
sought  to  assuage.  It  was  the  first  step  toward  his  cure.  These 
words  struck  the  scribes  who  heard  them  as  blasphemous.  Jesus 
divined  their  thoughts,  and  asked  them  which  is  the  easier  to  say, 
“Thy  sins  be  forgiven  thee,”  or  “Arise  and  walk”?  If  one  pre¬ 
supposed  divine  power,  so  did  the  other.  Then  follows  the  state¬ 
ment,  “  That  ye  may  know  that  the  Son  of  man  hath  power  on 
earth  to  forgive  sins  ”  —  here  he  turned  to  the  paralytic  —  “  Arise, 
take  up  thy  bed,  and  go  unto  thine  house.”  The  entire  narrative 
is  replete  with  the  marks  of  truth ;  but  this  one  observation,  de¬ 
fining  the  motive  of  the  miracle,  making  it  subordinate  to  the 
higher  end  of  verifying  his  authority  to  grant  spiritual  blessings, 
carries  in  it  evident  marks  of  authenticity.  Did  not  Jesus  say 
this?  If  he  did,  he  performed  the  miracle. 

V.  We  hear  it  said,  and  sometimes  read  in  print,  that  in  those 
days  “  everybody  believed  in  miracles  and  felt  no  surprise  at  their 
occurrence.”  This  is  not  true.  The  golden  age  of  the  Hebrew 
religion,  the  period  of  life  and  enthusiasm,  lay  to  the  Jews  of  that 
day,  with  their  dry  legalism,  in  the  remote  past.  Its  reappearance, 
and  with  it  miracles,  were  looked  for  when  the  Messiah  should 
come.  The  ordinary  feeling  of  surprise  at  a  miracle  is  expressed 
in  the  words  attributed  by  one  of  the  Evangelists  to  the  Jews, 
“  Since  the  world  began  it  was  never  heard  that  any  one  opened 
the  eyes  of  a  man  born  blind.”  2 

The  fact  that  no  miracles  are  attributed  to  John  the  Baptist, 
whom  all  held  to  be  a  prophet,  should  convince  one  that  the  mira¬ 
cles  attributed  to  Jesus  were  actually  performed.  The  multitude 
flocked  to  hear  the  prophet  of  the  wilderness.  Yet  he  made  no 
claim  to  work  miracles,  and  none  were  credited  to  him  by  his 
own  disciples. 

In  the  Gospels,  John  is  regarded  as  a  prophet  inferior  to  no 
other.  His  career  is  described.  Great  stress  is  laid  on  his  tes¬ 
timony  to  Jesus.  Why  are  no  miracles  ascribed  to  him  in  them? 

1  Mark  ii.  io ;  cf.  Matt.  ix.  6  ;  Luke  v.  24.  2  John  ix.  22. 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES 


189 


They  would  have  served  to  corroborate  his  testimony.  If  there 
was  a  propensity  in  the  first  disciples  of  Christ,  or  in  their  successors, 
to  imagine  miracles  where  there  were  none,  why  are  no  fabrica¬ 
tions  of  this  sort  interwoven  with  the  story  of  John’s  preaching? 
They  had  before  them  the  life  of  his  prototype,  Elijah,  and  the 
record  of  the  miracles  done  by  him.  What  (except  a  regard  for 
truth)  hindered  them  from  mingling  in  the  story  of  the  forerunner 
of  Jesus  occurrences  equally  wonderful?  Why  do  we  not  read 
that  one  day  he  responded  to  the  entreaty  of  a  poor  blind  man  by 
restoring  his  sight,  that  on  another  occasion  he  gave  back  to  a 
widow  the  life  of  her  son,  that  at  a  certain  time  a  woman  who  had 
been  for  years  a  helpless  invalid  was  immediately  cured  by  a  word 
‘  from  the  prophet,  that  the  diseased  were  often  brought  to  him  by 
their  friends  to  be  healed?  The  only  answer  is  that  the  Gospel 
narratives  are  not  the  product  of  imagination.  They  relate  the 
events  that  actually  took  place. 

VI.  It  is  equally  difficult  for  sceptical  criticism  to  explain  why 
not  a  miracle  is  ascribed  to  Jesus  prior  to  his  public  ministry. 
Why  should  the  imagination  of  the  early  Christians  have  stopped! 
short  at  his  baptism  ?  Why  did  not  fancy  run  back,  as  in  the 
later  apocryphal  fictions,  over  the  period  that  preceded  ?  A  defi¬ 
nite  date  is  assigned  for  the  beginning  of  his  miraculous  agency. 
Fancy  and  fraud  do  not  curb  themselves  in  this  way. 

VII.  The  persistence  of  the  faith  of  the  apostles  in  Jesus  as 
the  Messiah,  and  of  his  faith  in  himself,  admits  of  no  satisfactory 
explanation  when  the  miracles  are  denied. 

How  were  the  apostles  to  be  convinced  that  he  was  the  prom¬ 
ised,  expected  Messiah?  What  were  the  evidences  of  it?  He 
took  a  course  opposite  to  that  which  they  expected  the  Messiah 
to  take.  He  planned  no  political  change.  He  enjoined  meek¬ 
ness  and  patience.  He  held  out  to  them  the  prospect  of  persecu¬ 
tion  and  death  as  the  penalty  of  adhering  to  him.  Where  was 
the  national  deliverance  which  they  had  confidently  anticipated 
that  the  Messiah  would  effect?  How  intangible,  compared  with 
their  sanguine  hopes,  was  the  good  which  he  sought  to  impart ! 
Moreover,  they  heard  his  claims  denied  on  every  side.  The 
guides  of  the  people  in  religion  derided  or  denounced  them. 
Had  there  been  no  exertions  of  power  to  impress  the  senses,  and 
the  mind  through  the  senses,  it  is  incredible  that  the  apostles 
could  have  believed  in  him,  and  have  clung  to  him,  in  the  teeth 


190  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


of  all  the  influences  fitted  to  inspire  distrust.  We  might  ask  how 
Jesus  himself  could  have  kept  on  cherishing  the  unwavering  con¬ 
viction  that  he  was  in  truth  the  Messiah  of  God,  if  he  found  him¬ 
self  possessed  of  no  powers  exceeding  those  of  the  mortals  about 
him,  powers  which  had  been  inseparably  connected  with  the  coming 
Messiah.  Remembering  the  miraculous  powers  of  Moses  and 
Elijah,  could  he,  if  they  were  denied  to  him,  have  maintained  this 
consciousness,  without  the  least  faltering,  especially  when  he  saw 
himself  spurned  by  the  rulers,  rejected  by  the  people,  and  at  length 
deserted  by  his  timid  disciples? 

Strauss  is,  on  the  whole,  the  most  prominent  writer  in  modern 
times  who  has  undertaken  to  reconstruct  the  Gospel  history,  leav¬ 
ing  out  the  miracles.  His  theory  was,  that  the  narratives  of  mira- 
t  cles  are  a  mythology  spontaneously  spun  out  of  the  imagination 
of  groups  of  early  disciples.  But  what  moved  them  to  build  up 
so  baseless  a  fabric  ?  What  was  the  idea  that  so  possessed  the  mind 
as  to  clothe  itself  with  unconscious  fancies?  Why,  at  the  founda¬ 
tion  of  it  all,  was  the  fixed  expectation  that  the  Messiah  must  be  a 
miracle-worker  ?  The  predictions  of  the  Old  Testament  and  the 
example  of  the  prophets  required  it.  How  was  it,  then,  that,  in 
the  absence  of  this  indispensable  criterion  of  the  Messianic  office, 
these  same  disciples  believed  in  Jesus?  How  came  he  to  believe 
in  himself?  To  these  questions  the  author  of  the  mythical  theory 
could  give  no  answer  which  does  not  shatter  his  own  hypothesis. 
The  same  cause  which  by  the  supposition  impelled  to  the  imagin¬ 
ing  of  miracles  that  were  false  must  have  precluded  faith,  except 
on  the  basis  of  miracles  that  were  true. 

VIII.  In  the  evangelical  tradition  the  miracles  enter  as  potent 
causes  into  the  nexus  of  occurrences.  They  are  links  which 
cannot  be  spared  in  the  chain  of  events. 

Take,  for  example,  the  opening  chapters  of  Mark,  which  most 
critics  at  present  hold  to  be  the  oldest  Gospel.  There  is  an 
exceedingly  vivid  picture  of  the  first  labors  of  Jesus  in  Capernaum 
and  its  vicinity.  His  teaching,  to  be  sure,  thrilled  his  hearers. 
“  He  taught  them  as  one  that  had  authority.”  1  But  the  intense 
excitement  of  the  people  was  due  even  more  to  another  cause.  In 
the  synagogue  at  Capernaum  a  demoniac  interrupted  him  with 
loud  cries,  calling  him  “  the  Holy  One  of  God.”  At  the  word  of 
Jesus,  after  uttering  one  shriek,  the  frenzied  man  became  quiet 

1  Mark  i.  22. 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES  191 

and  sane.  The  mother  of  Peter’s  wife  was  raised  from  a  sick-bed.1 
Other  miraculous  cures  followed.  It  was  the  effect  of  these  upon 
the  people  that  obliged  him  to  rise  long  before  dawn  in  order  to 
anticipate  their  coming,  and  to  escape  to  a  retired  place  for 
prayer.  It  was  a  miracle  wrought  upon  a  leper  that  compelled 
Jesus  to  leave  the  city  for  “  desert  places,” — secluded  spots, 
where  the  people  would  not  throng  upon  him  in  so  great  numbers.2 
Very  definite  occurrences  are  traced  to  particular  causes,  which 
are  miraculous  acts  done  by  Christ.  It  was  the  raising  of  Lazarus 
and  its  effect  on  the  people  that  determined  the  Jewish  rulers  to 
apprehend  Jesus  without  delay  and  to  put  him  to  death.  The 
fact  that  this  event,  in  a  record  which  contains  so  many  unmistak¬ 
ably  authentic  details,  is  the  point  on  which  the  subsequent  history 
turns,  forced  upon  Renan  the  conviction  that  there  was  an  appar¬ 
ent  miracle,  —  something  that  was  taken  for  a  miracle,  —  and 
this  conviction  he  was  not  able  to  persuade  himself  absolutely  to 
relinquish.3 

The  miracle  at  Jericho,  which  is  described,  with  some  diversity 
in  the  circumstances,  by  three  of  the  Evangelists,  Keim,  always 
disposed  to  discount  the  miraculous,  found  it  impossible  to  resolve 
into  a  fiction.4  He  refers  to  the  fact  that  all  of  the  first  three  Gos¬ 
pels  record  it.5  He  adverts  to  the  fresh  and  vivid  character  of  the 
narratives.  But  the  main  consideration  is  the  explanation  afforded 
of  the  rising  tide  of  enthusiasm  in  the  people  at  this  time,  of  which 
there  is  full  proof.  But  Keim,  still  reluctant  to  admit  the  super¬ 
natural,  alludes  to  the  popular  excitement  as  quickening  “  the  vital 
and  nervous  forces,”  and  so  restoring  the  impaired  or  lost  vision 
of  the  man  healed.  It  is  intimated  that  this  access  of  nerve-force, 
coupled  with  his  faith,  may  have  effected  the  cure.  The  point 
which  concerns  us  here  is  the  reality  of  the  transaction  as  it 
appeared  to  the  spectators.  The  physiological  solution  may  pass 
for  what  it  is  worth.  If  cures  had  been  effected  by  Jesus  in  this 
way,  no  supernatural  factor  entering  into  the  means,  there  would 
have  been  conspicuous  failures,  as  well  as  instances  of  success  ;  and 
how  would  these  failures  have  affected  the  minds  of  the  disciples 
and  of  other  witnesses  of  them,  not  to  speak  of  the  mind  of  Jesus 

1  Mark  i.  30,  31.  2  Ibid.,  i.  35,  v.  45. 

3  Vie  de  Jesus,  13th  ed.,  pp.  507,  514. 

4  Gesch.  Jesu  von  Nazara,  vol.  iii.  p.  53. 

5  Luke  xviii.  35-43,  xix.  1  5  Matt.  xx.  29-34  ;  Mark  x.  46-52. 


192  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


I 


himself?  The  resurrection  of  Jesus,  more  than  any  other  of  the 
miracles,  bridges  over  an  otherwise  impassable  chasm  in  the  course 
of  events.  We  see  the  disciples,  an  intimidated  handful  of  dis¬ 
heartened  mourners.  Then  we  see  them  on  a  sudden  transformed 
into  a  band  of  bold  propagandists  of  the  new  faith,  eager  to  avow 
it  and  ready  to  lay  down  their  lives  for  it.  The  resurrection  is  the 
event  which  accounts  for  this  marvellous  change  and  for  the  spread 
of  Christianity  which  follows.  But  this  event  requires  to  be  more 
thoroughly  considered. 

IX.  The  proof  of  the  crowning  miracle  of  Christianity,  the  res¬ 
urrection  of  Jesus,  cannot  be  successfully  assailed,  even  were  the 
ordinary  views  of  the  sceptical  school  respecting  the  origin  of  the 
Gospels  tenable. 

As  we  stand  for  the  moment  on  common  ground  with  them,  we 
cannot  make  use  of  such  an  incident  as  the  doubt  of  Thomas  and 
the  removal  of  it,1  although  this  incident,  as  is  conceded  respect¬ 
ing  other  portions  of  the  fourth  Gospel,  may  be  historical,  even  if 
not  John,  but  another  author  wrote  the  book.  An  uncertainty  is 
thrown  over  the  circumstances  relating  to  the  intercourse  of  the 
disciples  with  Jesus  after  his  death,  which  are  found  in  the  Gos¬ 
pels.  That  is,  prior  to  establishing  the  genuineness  of  the  Gos¬ 
pels,  it  is  open  to  question  how  far  the  details  are  faithfully 
transmitted  from  the  witnesses.  But,  as  regards  the  cardinal  fact 
of  the  Gospel,  we  have  definite  evidence  from  an  unimpeachable 
source.  The  Apostle  Paul  states  with  precision  the  result  of  his 
inquiries  on  the  subject.2  The  crucifixion  took  place  a.d.  29  or 
30.  According  to  the  scheme  of  chronology  which  is  advocated 
by  Harnack,  Paul  was  converted  a.d.  30.  According  to  the  ordi¬ 
nary  view,  the  event  occurred  four  years  after  the  crucifixion  — 
that  is,  a.d.  34.  In  a.d.  37  he  went  to  Jerusalem,  and  staid  a  fort¬ 
night  with  Peter.3  He  was  conversant  with  the  apostles  and  other 
disciples.  He  knew  what  their  testimony  was.  In  the  church  at 
Corinth  there  were  parties.  Some  professed  to  be  adherents  of 
one  apostle,  and  some  of  another.  There  were  those,  also,  who 
doubted  the  truth  of  the  Christian  doctrine  of  the  resurrection. 
Paul  was  interested  to  show  that  disbelief  on  this  subject  was 
groundless  and  destructive  of  the  Christian  faith,  and,  incidentally, 
to  show  his  equality  with  the  other  apostles,  in  answer  to  any  who 
might  be  disposed  to  call  it  in  question.  He  enumerates  in  the 
1  John  xx.  24-30.  2  i  Cor.  xv.  4-8.  8  Cal.  ii.  18. 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES 


193 


most  distinct  manner  five  interviews  of  the  risen  Jesus  with  the 
disciples  (independently  of  the  miracle  which  occurred  on  the 
journey  to  Damascus) :  the  appearance  of  Jesus  to  Peter,  then  ! 
to  “  the  Twelve,”  then  to  five  hundred  disciples  at  once,  a 
majority  of  whom  were  still  living,  then  to  James,  then  to  “  all  j 
the  apostles.”  Last  of  all,  he  adds,  “  He  appeared  to  me  / 
also.”  He  does  not  imply  that  he  is  giving  all  the  appearances  of 
the  risen  Jesus.  He  is  concerned,  for  the  personal  reason  men¬ 
tioned  above,  to  make  mention  of  apostles  and  to  place  himself 
in  the  same  category  with  them.  But  the  appearances  which  he 
does  record  are  carefully  given  in  chronological  order.  “  James  ” 
is  doubtless  James,  the  brother  of  the  Lord.  From  Paul’s  explicit 
statement,  and  from  other  perfectly  conclusive  evidence,  it  is  cer¬ 
tain  that  the  first  of  the  supposed  appearances  of  Christ  to  the 
disciples  was  on  the  morning  of  the  next  Sunday  after  his  death.  v 
It  was  on  “  the  third  day.”  1  Then  it  was  that  they  believed  them¬ 
selves  to  have  irresistible  proof  that  he  had  risen  from  the  tomb. 
This  was  the  principal  fact  which  they  proclaimed,  the  one  main 
foundation  of  their  faith  and  hope.  The  question  is,  Were  they, 
or  were  they  not,  deceived?  Is  the  Christian  Church  founded  on 
a  fact  or  on  a  delusion?  Did  Christianity,  which  owes  its  exist¬ 
ence  and  spread  to  this  immovable  conviction  on  the  part  of  the 
apostles,  spring  from  either  a  fraud  or  a  dream  ?  The  notion  which 
once  had  advocates,  that  Christ  did  not  really  die,  but  revived  from 
a  swoon,  is  given  up.  How  could  he  have  gone  through  the  cruci¬ 
fixion  without  dying?  What  would  have  been  his  physical  condi¬ 
tion,  even  if  a  spark  of  life  had  remained?  If  he  did  not  die 
then,  when  did  he  die?  Did  he  and  the  apostles  agree  to  pretend 
that  he  had  died?  The  slander  of  the  Jews,  that  some  of  the  dis¬ 
ciples  stole  his  body,  nobody  will  for  a  moment  credit.  Why 
should  men  make  up  a  story  which  was  to  bring  them  no  benefit, 
but  only  contempt,  persecution,  and  death?  The  question  what 
became  of  the  body  of  Jesus  is  one  which  those  who  distrust  the 
testimony  of  the  apostles  do  not  satisfactorily  answer.  It  is  not 
doubted  that  the  tomb  was  found  empty.  Jewish  adversaries  had 
the  strongest  reason  for  producing  the  body  if  they  knew  where  it 
was.  That  would  have  instantly  destroyed  the  apostles’  testimony. 

1  1  Cor.  xv.  4,  cf.  Matt.  xvi.  21,  xvii.  23,  xx.  19,  xxvii.  63,  xxviii.  1  ;  Mark 
viii.  31,  ix.  31,  xiv.  58,  xv.  29,  xvi.  2,  9  ;  Luke  ix.  22,  xiii.  32,  xviii.  33,  xxiv. 

I,  7,  21,  46  ;  John  ii.  19,  xx.  I,  19,  26. 


194  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


The  only  hypothesis  which  has  any  plausibility  at  the  present  day, 
in  opposition  to  the  customary  faith  of  Christians,  is  the  “  vision- 
theory.”  The  idea  of  it  is,  that  the  apostles  mistook  mental  im¬ 
pressions  for  actual  perceptions.  Their  belief  in  the  resurrection 
was  the  result  of  hallucination.  Of  this  theory,  it  is  to  be  said  that 
responsibility  for  the  supposed  delusion,  if  it  was  a  delusion,  comes 
back  upon  the  founder  of  Christianity  himself.  Whoever  thinks 
that  the  disciples  were  self-deceived,  not  only,  as  Schleiermacher 
correctly  judges,  attributes  to  them  a  mental  imbecility  which  would 
make  their  entire  testimony  respecting  Christ  untrustworthy,  but 
implies  that,  when  Christ  chose  such  witnesses,  his  judgment  was 
strangely  at  fault.  Or,  if  Christ  willingly  permitted  or  led  them  to 
mistake  an  inward  impression  for  actual  perceptions,  he  is  himself 
the  author  of  error,  and  forfeits  our  moral  respect.1  But  the  vision- 
theory  is  built  up  on  false  assumptions,  and  signally  fails  to  explain 
the  phenomena  in  the  case.  We  need  not  pause  here  to  examine 
the  affirmation  of  Paul,  that  he  had  personally  seen  Christ.  This 
must  be  observed,  that  he  distinguishes  that  first  revelation  of 
Christ  to  him  —  which  stopped  him  in  his  career  as  an  inquisitor, 
and  made  him  a  new  man  in  his  convictions  and  aims  —  from  sub¬ 
sequent  “  visions  and  revelations.”  2  They  were  separated  in  time. 
It  was  not  on  them  that  Paul  professed  to  found  his  claim  to  be  an 
apostle.  He  refers  to  them  for  another  purpose.  The  words  that 
he  heard  in  a  moment  of  ecstasy  —  whether  “  in  the  body  or  out 
of  the  body”  he  could  not  tell —  he  never  even  repeated.3  That 
sight  of  Jesus  which  was  the  prelude  of  his  conversion  he  gives  as 
the  sixth  and  last  of  his  appearances  to  the  apostles  :  “  Last  of  all 
.  .  .  he  appeared  to  me  also.”  It  was  objective,  a  disclosure  to 
the  senses.  It  was  such  a  perception  of  Christ,  that  his  resurrec- , 
tion  was  proved  by  it  —  a  fact  with  which  the  resurrection  of 
believers  is  declared  to  be  indissolubly  connected.4  This  meant 
more  to  him  than  the  survival  of  the  soul.  It  was  to  be  “  clothed 
upon  ”  with  a  spiritual  body.5  Nothing  less  than  this  does  he 
mean  when  he  says  of  Christ  that  “  he  was  buried  and  that  he 
was  raised.”  Attempts  have  been  made  to  account  for  Paul’s  con¬ 
version  by  referring  it  to  a  mental  crisis  induced  by  secret  misgiv¬ 
ings,  and  leanings  toward  the  faith  which  he  was  striving  to  destroy. 

1  Christl.  Glaube,  vol.  ii.  p.  88.  4  I  Cor.  xv.  12-21. 

2  Cor.  xii.  1 ;  1  Cor.  ii.  10.  6  Compare  2  Cor.  v.  3,  4. 

3  2  Cor.  xii.  4  ;  cf.  Keim,  vol.  iii.  p.  538,  n.  1. 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES 


195 


Some  have  brought  in  a  thunder-clap  or  a  sunstroke  to  help  on  the 
effect  of  the  struggle  supposed  to  be  taking  place  within  his  soul. 
One  trouble  with  this  psychological  explanation  of  the  miracle  is, 
that  the  assumption  of  previous  doubts  and  of  remorseful  feelings 
is  not  only  without  historical  warrant,  but  is  directly  in  the  teeth 
of  Paul’s  own  assertions.  Inward  conflict  with  evil  impulses  —  con¬ 
flicts  of  the  “  flesh  ”  with  the  “  spirit  ”  —  were  something  quite  differ¬ 
ent  from  such  misgivings.  It  is  not  true,  however,  that  Paul 
implies  that  the  appearances  of  the  risen  Christ  to  the  other 
apostles  were  exactly  similar  to  Christ’s  appearance  to  him  on  the 
road  to  Damascus.  His  claim  was  simply  that  he,  too,  had  seen 
Christ.  The  circumstances  might  be  wholly  different  in  his  case. 
Jewish  Christians  who  were  hostile  to  Paul  made  a  point  of  the 
difference  between  his  knowledge  of  Christ  through  visions  and  the 
sort  of  knowledge  vouchsafed  to  the  other  apostles.  The  risen 
Christ  whom  these  saw  did  not  speak  to  them  from  heaven.  They 
believed  him  to  be  with  them  on  the  earth.  He  had  not  yet 
ascended.  His  real  or  supposed  presence  in  the  body  with  them 
was  an  essential  part  of  what  they  related.  Without  it,  the  whole 
idea  of  the  ascension  was  meaningless.  We  might  go  farther,  and 
say,  that,  in  the  absence  of  decisive  proof  to  the  contrary,  it  is  to 
be  presumed  that  the  accounts  which  the  apostles  were  in  the 
habit  of  giving  of  their  interviews  with  the  risen  Jesus  —  facts  so 
immeasurably  important  to  themselves  and  others  —  are,  in  the 
main,  preserved  in  the  Gospels.  Why  should  it  be  doubted  that  at 
least  the  essential  nature  of  these  interviews,  or  of  their  impression 
of  them,  about  which  the  Apostle  Paul  had  so  particularly  inquired, 
can  be  learned  from  the  Evangelists  ? 

But  the  details  in  the  Gospel  narratives  may  be  left  out  of 
account  for  the  present.1  The  main  facts  indisputably  embraced 

1  Inconsistencies,  real  or  only  apparent,  in  respect  to  the  details,  in  the 
Gospel  narratives,  are  such  as  might  be  expected  in  accounts  from  different 
sources.  They  are  such  as  are  met  with  in  secular  history  in  connection  with 
epoch-making  events,  the  reality  of  which  is  not  subject  to  doubt.  The 
hurried  and  scanty  notices  in  Mark  and  Matthew  are  in  accord  with 
the  habit  of  restriction  to  Galilean  occurrences.  The  last  twelve  verses  in 
Mark  do  not  belong  in  the  text.  The  text  closes  abruptly  (ver.  8)  with  the 
statement  that  the  women  did  not  report  to  the  disciples  the  message  relating 
to  Galilee.  Not  unlikely  the  second  Gospel  was  the  source  of  what  is  set 
down  in  the  first  (except  Matthew  xxviii.  9,  10).  If  Mark  repeated  what  was 
ascertained  from  Peter,  we  should  expect  that  he  would  not  have  omitted  the 


196  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


in  the  testimony  of  the  apostles  are  sufficient.  There  are  criteria 
of  hallucination.  If  there  were  not,  we  should  on  all  occasions  be 
at  a  loss  to  know  when  to  credit  witnesses,  or  even  when  to  trust 
our  own  senses.  We  have  to  consider,  in  the  first  place,  the  state 
of  mind  into  which  the  apostles  were  thrown  by  the  crucifixion. 
It  was  a  state  of  sorrow  and  dejection.  Their  hopes  for  the  time 
were  crushed.  Whoever  has  seen  the  dead  Christ  in  the  famous 
painting  of  Rubens  at  Antwerp  can  imagine  the  feeling  of  the 
disciples  when  they  looked  on  the  terrible  reality.  How  was  it 
possible  for  them  within  a  few  days  —  within  two  days,  in  the  case 
of  some,  if  not  of  all  —  to  recover  from  the  shock?  How  was  it 
possible  that  in  so  short  a  time  joy  took  the  place  of  grief  and  fear? 
Whence  came  the  sudden  rekindling  of  faith,  and  with  it  the  cour¬ 
age  to  go  forth  and  testify,  at  the  risk  of  their  own  lives,  that  Jesus 
was  indeed  the  Messiah?  The  glowing  faith,  rising  to  an  ecstasy 
of  peace  and  assurance,  out  of  which  hallucination  might  spring, 
did  not  exist.  The  necessary  materials  of  illusion  were  absolutely 
wanting.  The  natural  suggestion  of  the  language  of  Paul  is  that 
the  manifestation  to  Peter  was  on  the  third  day,  and  this  is  con¬ 
firmed  by  Luke  (xxiv.  34).  There  was  no  long  interval  of  silent 
brooding  over  the  Master’s  words  and  worth.  There  was  no  grad¬ 
ual  recall  of  predictions  or  intimations  of  a  continued  presence 
or  another  coming  that  had  mingled  in  his  conversations  with  them. 
The  time  was  short  —  a  few  days.  Even  then  there  are  no  traces 
of  any  fever  of  enthusiasm.  The  interviews  with  the  risen  Christ 
are  set  down  in  the  Gospels  in  a  brief,  calm  way,  without  any 
marks  of  bewildering  agitation.  No,  the  revulsion  of  feeling  must 
have  been  produced  from  without.  The  event  that  produced  it 
was  no  creation  of  the  apostles’  minds.  It  took  them  by  surprise. 
Secondly,  the  number  and  variety  of  the  persons  —  five  hundred 
at  once  —  who  constitute  the  witnesses,  heighten  the  difficulty  in 
the  way  of  the  hallucination-theory.  Under  circumstances  so 
gloomy  and  disheartening,  how  were  so  many  persons  —  compris¬ 
ing,  as  they  must  have  comprised,  all  varieties  of  temperament  — 
transported  by  the  same  enthusiasm  to  such  a  pitch  of  bewilder- 

appearance  of  Christ  to  Peter,  which  is  attested  by  Paul  as  well  as  by  Luke. 
On  these  points,  and  on  the  proof  of  the  occurrence  of  the  manifestations  of 
Christ,  certainly  the  earliest  and  the  most  of  them  in  Jerusalem,  see  the 
instructive  monograph  of  Loofs,  Die  A ufersteh ungs-Berichte  u.  ihr  Wert 
(1898). 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES 


I9; 


ment  as  to  confound  a  mental  image  of  Christ  with  the  veritable, 
present  reality?  But, 'thirdly)  a  greater  difficulty  lies  in  the  limited 
number  of  the  alleged  appearances  of  Jesus,  considering  the  state  of 
mind  which  must  be  assumed  to  have  existed  if  the  hallucination- 
theory  is  adopted.  Instead  of  a  small  number,  there  would  have 
been  a  multitude  of  such  “  visions.”  This  the  analogy  of  religious 
delusions  authorizes  us  to  assert.  If  the  five  hundred  collectively 
imagined  themselves  to  see  Christ,  a  great  portion  of  them  would 
individually,  before  and  after,  have  imagined  the  same  thing.  The 
limited,  carefully  marked,  distinctly  recollected  number  of  the 
appearances  of  Jesus  to  the  apostles  is  a  powerful  argument  against 
the  theory  of  illusion.  ^Fourthly,  connected  with  this  last  consid¬ 
eration  is  another  most  impressive  fact.  There  was  a  limitation 
of  time  as  well  as  of  number.  The  appearances  of  Jesus,  whatever 
they  were,  ceased  in  a  short  period.  Why  did  they  not  continue 
longer?  There  were  visions  of  one  kind  and  another  afterward. 
Disbelievers  point  to  these  as  a  proof  of  the  apostles’  credulity. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  the  question  recurs,  Why  were  there  no  more 
visions  of  the  risen  Jesus  to  be  placed  in  the  same  category  with 
those  enumerated  by  Paul?  Stephen’s  vision  was  of  Christ  in  the 
heavenly  world.  In  the  persecutions  recorded  in  Acts,  when  mar¬ 
tyrs  were  perishing,  why  were  there  no  Christophanies?  There  is 
not  a  solitary  case  of  an  alleged  actual  appearance  of  Jesus  on  the 
earth  to  disciples,  after  the  brief  period  which  is  covered  by  the 
instances  recorded  by  Paul  and  the  Evangelists.  There  were  those 
distinct  occurrences,  standing  by  themselves,  definitely  marked, 
beginning  at  a  certain  time,  ending  at  a  certain  time. 

We  know  what  the  mood  of  the  apostles  was  from  the  time  of 
these  alleged  interviews  with  the  risen  Christ.  They  set  about 
the  work  of  preaching  the  gospel  of  the  resurrection,  and  of  found¬ 
ing  the  Church.  There  was  no  more  despondency,  no  more  fal¬ 
tering.  It  is  undeniable  that  they  are  characterized  by  sobriety 
of  mind,  and  by  a  habit  of  reflection,  without  which,  indeed,  the 
whole  movement  would  quickly  have  come  to  an  end.  The 
controversies  attending  the  martyrdom  of  Stephen  were  not  more 
than  two  years  after  the  death  of  Jesus.  Then  followed  the  mis¬ 
sion  to  the  Jews  and  to  the  heathen,  the  deliberations  respecting 
the  position  to  be  accorded  to  the  Gentile  converts,  and  the  whole 
work  of  organizing  and  training  the  churches.  To  be  sure,  they 
claimed  to  be  guided  by  the  Divine  Spirit.  Light  was  imparted 


198  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


to  them,  from  time  to  time,  through  visions.  Take  what  view  one 
will  of  these  phenomena,  it  is  plain,  that,  on  the  whole,  a  discreet, 
reflective  habit  characterized  the  apostles.  This  is  clear  enough 
from  the  Acts,  and  from  the  Epistles,  on  any  sane  view  respecting 
the  credibility  of  these  books  which  critics  are  disposed  to  take. 
Now  this  reasonableness  and  sobriety  belonged  to  the  apostles 
from  the  first,  or  it  did  not.  If  it  did,  it  excludes  the  supposition 
of  that  abandonment  to  dreamy  emotion  and  uninquiring  revery 
which  the  hallucination-theory  implies.  If  it  did  not,  then  it 
behooves  the  advocates  of  this  hypothesis  to  tell  what  it  was  that 
suddenly  effected  such  a  change  in  them.  What  broke  up,  on  a 
sudden,  the  mood  of  excitement  and  flightiness  which  engendered 
notions  of  a  fictitious  resurrection  ?  How  was  a  band  of  religious 
dreamers,  not  gradually,  but  in  a  very  short  space  of  time,  trans¬ 
formed  into  men  of  discretion  and  good  sense?  Why  did  these 
devotees  not  go  on  with  their  delicious  dreams,  in  which  they 
believed  Jesus  to  be  visibly  at  their  side.  The  sudden,  final  ter¬ 
mination,  without  any  outward  cause  producing  it,  of  an  absorb¬ 
ing  religious  enthusiasm  like  that  which  is  imputed  to  the  apostles 
and  to  the  five  hundred  disciples,  is  without  a  parallel  in  the 
history  of  religion. 

It  is  the  force  of  these  considerations  which  compelled  so  keen 
a  critic  as  Keim  to  deny  credence  to  the  illusion-theory.  “  It 
must  be  acknowledged,”  he  says,  “  that  this  theory,  which  has 
lately  become  popular,  is  only  an  hypothesis  that  explains  some 
things,  but  does  not  explain  the  main  thing,  nay,  deals  with  the 
historical  facts  from  distorted  and  untenable  points  of  view.” 1 
“  If  the  visions  are  not  a  human  product,  not  self-produced  ;  if 
they  are  not  the  blossom  and  fruit  of  a  bewildering  over  excite¬ 
ment  ;  if  they  are  something  strange,  mysterious ;  if  they  are 
accompanied  at  once  with  astonishingly  clear  perceptions  and 
resolves,  —  then  it  remains  to  fall  back  on  a  source  of  them  not 
yet  named:  it  is  God  and  the  glorified  Christ.”  2  Thus  the  ces¬ 
sation  of  the  visions  at  a  definite  point  can  be  accounted  for. 
The  extraneous  power  that  produced  them  ceased  to  do  so.  It 
was,  in  truth,  the  personal  act  and  self-revelation  of  the  departed 
Jesus.  Without  this  supernatural  manifestation  of  himself  to 
convince  his  disciples  that  he  still  lived  in  a  higher  form  of 
being,  his  cause  would,  in  all  probability,  have  come  to  an  end  at 
1  Gesch.  Jesuvon  Nazara ,  vol.  iii.  p.  600.  2  Ibid.,  p.  602. 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES 


199 


his  death.  Faith  in  him  as  Messiah  would  have  gradually  vanished, 
the  disciples  would  have  gone  back  to  Judaism  and  the  synagogue, 
and  the  words  of  Jesus  would  have  been  buried  in  the  dust  of 
oblivion.1  A  powerful  impression,  not  originating  in  themselves, 
but  coming  from  without,  from  Christ  himself,  alone  prevented 
this  catastrophe.  The  admission  of  a  miracle  is  extorted  from 
this  writer  by  the  untenableness  of  every  other  solution  that  can  be 
thought  of.  At  the  end  of  a  work  which  is  largely  taken  up  with 
attempts,  direct  or  indirect,  to  displace  supernatural  agency, 
Keim  finds  himself  impelled  by  the  sheer  pressure  of  the  evidence 
to  assert  its  reality,  and  to  maintain  that  the  very  survival  of 
Christianity  in  the  world  after  the  death  of  Jesus  depended  on  it. 
If  he  still  stumbles  at  the  particular  form  of  the  miracle  which 
the  testimony  obliges  us  to  accept,  yet  the  miracle  of  a  self¬ 
manifestation  of  Jesus  to  the  apostles  he  is  constrained  to  presup¬ 
pose. 

On  a  question  of  this  kind  historical  evidence  can  go  no  farther. 
When  it  is  declared  by  a  large  number  of  witnesses  who  have  no 
motive  to  deceive,  that  a  certain  event  took  place  before  their 
eyes,  and  when  the  circumstances  forbid  the  hypothesis  of  self- 
deception,  there  would  appear  to  be  no  alternative  but  to  admit 
the  reality  of  the  fact.  The  proof  is  complete.  The  fact  may 
still  be  denied  by  an  unreflecting  incredulity.  It  may  be  affirmed 
to  be  impossible,  or  to  be  under  any  circumstances  incapable  of 
proof.  Against  such  a  contention,  testimony,  historical  proof  of 
any  sort  is  powerless.  The  immovable  faith  of  the  apostles  that 
Jesus  “  showed  himself  alive  to  them  ”  is  a  fact  that  nobody  ques¬ 
tions.  Without  that  faith  Christianity  would  have  died  at  its  birth. 
Whoever  refuses  to  give  credit  to  their  testimony  ought  to  explain 
in  some  satisfactory  way  the  origin,  strength,  and  persistence  of  that 
faith. 

X.  The  concessions  which  are  extorted  by  the  force  of  the  evi¬ 
dence  from  the  ablest  disbelievers  in  the  miracles  are  fatal  to  their 
own  cause. 

At  the  beginning  of  this  century  the  theory  of  Paulus,  the  Ger¬ 
man  Euemerus,  was  brought  forward.  It  was  the  naturalistic 
solution.  The  stories  of  miracles  in  the  New  Testament  were 
based  on  facts  which  were  misunderstood.  These  were  actual 
occurrences ;  but  they  were  looked  at  through  a  mist  of  supersti- 
1  Gesch.  Jesu  von  Nazara,  vol.  iii.  p.  605. 


200  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


tious  belief,  and  thus  misinterpreted  and  magnified.  Jesus  had 
a  secret  knowledge  of  potent  remedies,  and  the  cures  which  he 
effected  by  the  application  of  them  passed  for  miracles.  The 
instances  of  raising  the  dead  were  cases  of  only  apparent  death. 
For  example,  Jesus  saw  that  the  son  of  the  widow  of  Nain  was 
not  really  dead.  Perhaps  the  young  man  opened  his  eyes,  or 
stirred,  and  thus  discovered  to  Jesus  that  he  was  alive.  Jesus 
mercifully  saved  him  from  a  premature  burial.  He  did  not  think 
himself  called  upon  to  correct  the  mistaken  judgments  of  the  dis¬ 
ciples  and  of  others,  who  attributed  his  beneficent  acts  to  preter¬ 
natural  power.  He  allowed  himself  in  a  tacit  accommodation 
to  the  vulgar  ideas  in  these  matters.  This  theory  was  seriously 
advocated  in  learned  tomes.  It  was  applied  in  detail  in  elaborate 
commentaries  on  the  Gospels. 

Strauss  simply  echoed  the  general  verdict  to  which  all  sensible 
and  right-minded  people  had  arrived,  when  he  scouted  this  at¬ 
tempted  explanation  of  the  Gospel  narratives,  and  derided  the 
exegesis  by  which  it  was  supported.  The  theory  of  Paulus  made 
the  apostles  fools,  and  Christ  a  Jesuit.  But  the  hypothesis  which 
Strauss  himself  brought  forward,  if  less  ridiculous,  was  not  a  whit 
more  tenable.  Unconscious  myths  generated  by  communities  of 
disciples  who  mistook  their  common  fancies  for  facts ;  myths 
generated  by  bodies  of  disciples  cut  off  from  the  care  and  over¬ 
sight  of  the  apostles  who  knew  better ;  by  disciples,  who,  neverthe¬ 
less,  succeeded  in  substituting  in  all  the  churches  their  fictitious 
narrative,  in  the  room  of  the  true  narrative,  which  was  given  by 
the  apostles,  —  here  were  improbabilities  so  gross  as  to  prevent 
the  mythical  theory  from  gaining  a  lasting  foothold  in  the  field 
of  historical  criticism.  It  was  impossible,  as  it  was  explained 
above,  to  see  how  the  faith  of  the  myth-making  division  of  disci¬ 
ples  was  produced  at  the  start.  No  such  class  of  disciples,  cut 
off  from  the  superintendence  of  the  apostles,  existed.  If  it  be 
supposed  that  such  a  class  of  disciples  did  exist,  the  agents  who 
planted  Christianity  in  the  towns  and  cities  of  the  Roman  Empire 
were  not  from  these,  but  were  the  apostles  and  their  followers. 
And  then,  how  could  the  established  tradition  as  to  Christ’s  life  be 
superseded  by  another  narrative,  emanating  from  some  obscure 
source,  and  presenting  a  totally  diverse  conception  from  that 
which  the  apostles  or  their  pupils  were  teaching?  So  the  mythi¬ 
cal  theory  went  the  way  of  the  naturalistic  scheme  of  Paulus. 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES 


201 


Seeing  his  failure,  Strauss  afterward  tried  to  change  the  definition 
of  myth,  and  to  introduce  an  element  of  conscious  invention  into 
the  idea ;  but  in  so  doing  he  destroyed  the  work  of  his  own  hands. 
Or  rather  he  sought  shelter  in  a  house  which  he,  in  common  with 
many  others,  had  shown  to  be  built  on  the  sand. 

Renan  has  undertaken,  in  a  series  of  volumes,  to  furnish  upon 
the  naturalistic  basis  an  elaborate  explanation  of  the  origin  of 
Christianity.  In  the  successive  editions  of  his  Life  of  Jesus  he  has 
considered  and  reconsidered  the  problem  of  the  miracles.  What 
has  he  to  say  ?  He  tells  us  that  miracles  at  that  epoch  were  thought 
indispensable  to  the  prophetic  vocation.  The  legends  of  Elijah 
and  Elisha  were  full  of  them.  It  was  taken  for  granted  that  the 
Messiah  would  perform  many.1  Jesus  believed  that  he  had  a  gift 
of  healing.  He  acquired  repute  as  an  exorcist.2  Nay,  it  is  unde¬ 
niable  that  “  acts  which  would  now  be  considered  fruits  of  illusion 
or  hallucination  had  a  great  place  in  the  life  of  Jesus.”  3  The  four 
Gospels,  he  holds,  render  this  evident.  Renan  sees  that  there 
is  no  way  of  escaping  the  conclusion  that  miracles  seemed  to  be 
wrought,  and  that  they  were  a  very  marked  feature  in  the  history 
as  it  actually  occurred.  Those  about  Jesus  —  the  entourage  — 
were  probably  more  struck  with  the  miracles  than  with  anything 
else.4  How  shall  this  be  accounted  for?  Illusion  in  the  mind 
of  Jesus,  an  exaggerated  idea  of  his  powers,  will  go  a  little  way 
toward  a  solution  of  the  question,  but  does  not  suffice.  It  must 
be  held  that  the  part  of  a  thaumaturgist  was  forced  on  Jesus  by 
the  craving  of  disciples  and  the  demand  of  current  opinion.  He 
had  either  to  renounce  his  mission  or  to  comply.5  His  miracles 
were  “a  violence  done  him  by  his  age,  a  concession  which  a  press¬ 
ing  necessity  wrested  from  him.”  6  There  were  miracles,  or  trans¬ 
actions  taken  for  miracles,  in  which  he  consented  “  to  play  a 
part.” 7  He  was  reluctant ;  it  was  distasteful  to  him ;  but  he 
consented.  Then  come  M.  Renan’s  apologies  for  Jesus.  Sin¬ 
cerity  is  not  a  trait  of  Orientals.  We  must  not  be  hard  upon 
deception  of  this  sort.  We  must  conquer  our  “repugnances.” 
“We  shall  have  a  right  to  be  severe  upon  such  men  when  we  have 
accomplished  as  much  with  our  scruples  as  they  with  their  lies.” 

1  Vie  de  Jesus,  p.  266,  cf.  p.  271. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  273. 

8  Ibid.,  p.  277. 


7  Ibid.,  p.  513. 


4  Ibid.,  p.  269. 
6  Ibid.,  p.  267. 
6  Ibid.,  p.  279. 


202  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


In  that  impure  city  of  Jerusalem,  Jesus  was  no  longer  himself. 
His  conscience,  by  the  fault  of  others,  had  lost  its  original  clear¬ 
ness.  He  was  desperate,  pushed  to  the  extremity,  no  longer 
master  of  himself.  Death  must  come  to  restore  him  to  liberty, 
to  deliver  him  from  a  part  which  became  every  hour  more  exact¬ 
ing,  more  difficult  to  sustain.1 

In  plain  English,  Jesus  was  an  impostor,  reluctantly,  yet  really 
and  consciously.  From  enthusiasm  it  went  on  to  knavery;  for 
pious  fraud,  notwithstanding  M.  Renan’s  smooth  deprecation,  is 
fraud.  The  Son  of  man  sinks  out  of  sight,  with  his  conscience 
clouded,  his  character  fallen.  M.  Renan’s  excuses  for  him  are 
not  mere  excuses  for  a  wicked  person,  or  one  thought  to  be  such, 
but  for  wickedness  itself.  Even  his  apologies  for  Judas  are  less 
offensive. 

This  defamation  of  Jesus  is  for  the  theory  of  disbelief  a  reductio 
ad  absurdum.  The  wise  and  good  of  all  Christian  ages  are  told 
that  their  veneration  is  misplaced.  Jesus  was  not  the  “  holy  one.” 
There  is  nothing  even  heroic  in  him.  He  is  swept  away  by  a 
popular  current,  giving  up  his  rectitude,  giving  up  his  moral  dis¬ 
crimination.  He  is  made  up  in  equal  parts  of  the  visionary  and 
the  deceiver.  By  his  moral  weakness  he  brings  himself  into  such 
an  entanglement,  that  to  escape  from  it  by  death  is  a  piece  of 
good  fortune.  He  to  whom  mankind  have  looked  up  as  to  the 
ideal  of  holiness  turns  out  to  be,  first  a  dreamer,  then  a  fanatic 
and  a  charlatan.  It  is  proved  that  a  clean  thing  can  come  out  of 
an  unclean.  Out  of  so  muddy  a  fountain  there  has  flowed  so 
pure  a  stream.  Courage,  undeviating  truth,  steadfast  loyalty  to 
right  against  all  seductions,  in  all  these  Christian  ages,  have  sprung 
from  communion  with  a  dishonest  man,  who  obeyed  the  maxim 
that  the  end  justifies  the  means.  For  no  gloss  of  rhetoric  can 
cover  up  the  meaning  that  lies  underneath  M.  Renan’s  fine 
phrases.  When  the  light  coating  of  French  varnish  is  rubbed  off, 
it  is  a  picture  of  degrading  duplicity  that  is  left. 

This  is  the  last  word  of  scientific  infidelity.  Let  the  reader 
mark  the  point  to  which  his  attention  is  called.  On  any  rational 
theory  about  the  date  and  authorship  of  the  Gospels,  it  is  found 
impossible  to  doubt  that  facts  supposed  at  the  time  of  their  occur¬ 
rence  to  be  miraculous  were  plentiful  in  the  life  of  Jesus.  The 
advocates  of  Atheism  are  driven  to  the  hypothesis  of  hallucination 

1  Vie  de  Jesus ,  p.  375. 


PRELIMINARY  PROOF  OF  THE  MIRACLES 


203 


with  a  large  infusion  of  pious  fraud.  There  is  no  fear  that  such 
a  theory  will  prevail.  No  being  could  exist  with  the  heterogene¬ 
ous,  discordant  qualities  attributed  by  Renan  to  Christ.  Were 
such  a  being  possible,  the  new  life  of  humanity  could  never  have 
flowed  from  so  defiled  a  source. 

The  arguments  which  this  chapter  contains  will  not  convince 
an  atheist.  One  who  denies  that  God  is  a  personal  being  is,  in 
direct  proportion  to  the  force  of  his  conviction,  debarred  from 
believing  in  a  miracle.  There  can  be  no  supernatural  element 
introduced  into  the  course  of  events  if  nothing  supernatural 
exists.  One  will  either  seek  for  some  other  explanation  of  the 
phenomena,  or  leave  the  problem  unsolved.  Secondly,  these 
arguments,  it  is  believed,  separately  taken,  are  valid ;  but  they 
are  also  to  be  considered  together.  Their  collective  strength  is 
to  be  estimated.  If  the  single  rod  could  be  broken,  the  same 
may  not  be  true  of  the  bundle.  Thirdly,  it  is  not  to  be  forgotten 
that  demonstrative  reasoning  on  questions  of  historical  fact  is 
precluded.  He  who  requires  a  coercive  argument  where  prob¬ 
able  reasoning  alone  is  applicable  must  be  left  in  doubt  or  dis¬ 
belief.  In  the  strongest  conceivable  case  of  probable  reasoning 
there  is  always  a  possibility  of  the  opposite  opinion  being  true. 
Enough  that  reasonable  doubt  is  excluded.1 


1  On  Heathen  and  Ecclesiastical  Miracles,  see  Appendix,  Note  21. 


CHAPTER  X 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD  OF  THE  TESTIMONY  GIVEN  BY 

THE  APOSTLES 

What  did  the  apostles  testify?  Is  their  testimony  concerning 
Jesus  to  be  relied  on?  In  the  historical  inquiry  which  we  are  pur¬ 
suing,  these  are  the  questions  to  be  answered.  The  subject  of 
the  authorship  and  date.  of  the  Gospels  is  important  from  its  rela¬ 
tion  to  the  first  of  these  points.  Only  by  investigating  the  origin 
of  the  Gospels  can  we  ascertain  whether  these  writings  are  a  trust¬ 
worthy  account  of  the  testimony  given  by  the  apostles.  But 
proof,  from  whatever  quarter  it  may  come,  that  such  is  the  fact, 
even  though  not  touching  directly  the  question  by  what  particular 
authors  the  Gospels  were  written,  it  is  pertinent  to  adduce.  And 
proof  of  this  character,  it  will  be  seen,  is  not  wholly  wanting. 

There  is  one  remark  to  be  made  at  the  threshold  of  the  dis¬ 
cussion  before  us.  The  circumstance  that  the  Gospels  contain 
accounts  of  miracles  gives  rise,  in  some  minds,  to  a  conscious  or 
unconscious  disinclination  to  refer  these  writings  to  the  apostles,  or 
to  regard  them  as  a  fair  and  true  representation  of  their  testimony. 
But  this  bias  is  unreasonable.  Apart  from  the  general  considera¬ 
tion,  that  the  very  idea  of  revelation  implies  miracle,  it  has  been 
already  proved  that  accounts  of  miracles,  and  of  some  at  least 
of  the  very  miracles  recorded  in  these  histories,  did  form  a  part 
of  the  narratives  of  the  ministry  of  Jesus  which  the  apostles  were 
accustomed  to  give. 

The  proof  of  the  genuineness  of  the  Gospels  is  like  that  which 
determines  the  authorship  of  other  ancient  writings  —  for  example, 
the  writings  of  the  Jewish  historian  Josephus,  who  was  a  contem¬ 
porary  of  the  apostles,  Plutarch’s  Lives ,  or  the  histories  of  Livy  and 
Tacitus.  In  the  case  of  the  Gospels  we  have  additional  sources 
of  proof  in  the  relation  of  the  Gospels  to  the  Christian  societies, 
the  unique  interest  felt  in  these  narratives,  and  the  wide-spread 
use  made  of  them.  The  idea  that  they  were  not  ascribed  to  their 

204 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


205 


real  authors  is  unreasonable,  unless  definite  objections  can  be 
alleged  of  sufficient  weight  to  counteract  the  customary  force  of 
evidence  from  the  tradition.  Doubts  resting  on  no  solid  basis,  or 
guesses,  are  as  little  to  be  regarded  as  if  they  had  reference  to  the 
authorship  of  the  orations  of  Cicero. 

The  universal  reception  of  the  four  Gospels  as  having  exclusive 
authority  by  the  churches  in  the  closing  part  of  the  second  cen¬ 
tury,  requires  to  be  accounted  for,  if  their  genuineness  is  called  in 
question.  The  Christian  literature  which  has  survived  from  the 
latter  part  of  the  first  century  and  the  beginning  of  the  second 
is  scanty  and  fragmentary.  But  when  we  come  out  into  the  light 
in  the  last  quarter  of  the  second  century,  we  find  the  Gospels  of 
the  canon  in  undisputed  possession  of  the  field.  We  hear,  more¬ 
over,  from  all  quarters,  the  declaration  that  these  are  the  Gospels 
which  have  come  down  from  the  apostles.  We  are  given  to 
understand  that  their  genuineness  had  never  been  questioned 
in  the  churches.  There  was  no  centralized  organization,  be  it  re¬ 
membered,  such  as  might  be  misled  by  designing  men  to  lend 
authority  to  their  claims.  They  owed  this  universal  acceptance 
to  the  concerted  action  of  no  priesthood,  to  the  decree  of  no 
council.  The  simple  fact  is,  that  these  books  —  ascribed  respec¬ 
tively  to  four  authors,  two  of  whom  were  apostles,  and  the  other 
two  were  not  —  were  recognized  by  the  Christian  churches  every¬ 
where,  and,  it  was  alleged,  had  been  thus  recognized  without  dis-  * 
pute.  Here  is  Irenaeus,  born  at  least  as  early  as  a.d.  130 — - 
probably  a  number  ofLyears  earlier 1  —  in  Asia  Minor,  bishop  of 
the  church  of  Lyons  from  a.d.  178  to  202  ;  an  upright  man  in  a 
conspicuous  position,  and  with  ample  means  of  acquiring  a  knowl¬ 
edge  of  the  churches  in  Asia  Minor  and  Italy,  as  well  as  in  Gaul. 
In  defending  Christian  truth  against  the  grotesque  speculations  of 
the  Gnostics,  he  is  led,  at  the  beginning  of  the  third  book  of  his 
treatise,  to  make  his  appeal  to  the  Scriptures.  This  leads  him  to 
present  an  account  of  the  composition  of  the  Gospels,  —  how 

1  Lightfoot  (Essays  on  Supernatural  Religion,  p.  264)  would  fix  the  date  of 
Irenseus’s  birth  at  a.d.  120  ;  Ropes  ( Bib .  Sacra ,  April,  1877,  pp.  288  seql), 
at  about  a.d.  126  ;  so  Hilgenfeld.  But  Zahn  argues  ably  (Herzog  u.  Plitt’s 
Real.  Encycl.,  vii.  134^.)  for  an  earlier  date,  a.d.  115.  Harnack  formerly 
in  accord  (Die  Uberlieferung  d.  griechischen  Apologg.  d.  2 ten  Jahrh .,  p.  204) 
now  would  assign  a.d.  130  as  the  earliest  admissible  date,  but  favors  a  date 
“shortly  before  a.d.  142”  ( Chronologie ,  i.  329). 


20 6  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


Matthew  published  “  a  written  Gospel  among  the  Hebrews  in 
their  own  language  ”  ;  Mark  put  in  writing  “  the  things  that  were 
preached  by  Peter  ”  ;  Luke,  “  the  attendant  of  Paul,”  wrote  the 
third  Gospel;  and  “  afterwards,  John,  the  disciple  of  the  Lord, 
who  also  leaned  on  his  breast  —  he  again  put  forth  his  Gospel 
while  he  abode  at  Ephesus  in  Asia.”1  He  is  not,  be  it  observed, 
announcing  any  new  discoveries.  He  is  simply  explaining  what 
was  commonly  understood.  These  Gospels,  and  no  others,  he 
tells  us,  the  churches  acknowledge.  Fully  to  illustrate  how  Ire- 
nseus  constantly  assumes  the  exclusive  authority  of  the  Gospels  of 
the  canon  would  require  us  to  transfer  to  these  pages  no  incon¬ 
siderable  part  of  his  copious  work.  Passing  over  the  sea  to 
Alexandria,  we  find  Clement,  who  was  born  probably  at  Athens, 
certainly  not  later  than  a.d.  160,  and  was  at  the  head  of  the 
catechetical  school  in  the  city  of  his  adoption  from  a.d.  190  to 
203,  having  previously  travelled  in  Greece,  Italy,  Syria,  and  Pales¬ 
tine.2  Referring  to  a  statement  in  an  apocryphal  Gospel,  he 
remarks  that  it  is  not  found  “  in  the  four  Gospels  which  have 
been  handed  down  to  us.”3  In  another  place  he  states  the  order 
in  which  these  Gospels  were  written  as  he  had  learned  it  from 
“  the  oldest  presbyters.” 4  Then,  from  the  church  of  North  Africa 
we  have  the  emphatic  affirmations  of  Tertullian  (born  about  a.d. 
160)  of  the  sole  authority  of  the  four  Gospels,  which  were  written 
by  apostles  and  by  apostolic  men,  their  companions.5  In  the 
churches  founded  by  the  apostles,  and  by  the  churches  in  fellow¬ 
ship  with  them,  he  asserts,  the  Gospel  of  Luke  had  been  received 
since  its  first  publication.  “The  same  authority  of  the  apostolic 
churches,”  he  adds,  “  will  also  support  the  other  Gospels,”  of 
which  Matthew,  Mark,  and  John  were  the  authors.  The  Mura- 
torian  Fragment  of  Roman  origin,  the  date  of  which  is  not  far 
from  a.d.  1 70,  is  a  fragment  which  begins  in  the  middle  of  a  sen¬ 
tence.  That  sentence,  from  its  resemblance  to  a  statement  made 
by  an  earlier  writer,  Papias,  respecting  Mark,  as  well  as  from  what 
immediately  follows  in  the  document  itself,  evidently  relates  to 
this  Evangelist.  This  broken  sentence  is  succeeded  by  an  account 
of  the  composition  of  Luke,  which  is  designated  as  the  third  Gos¬ 
pel,  and  then  of  John.  In  Syria,  the  Peshito,  the  Bible  of  the 
ancient  Syrian  churches,  having  its  origin  at  about  the  same  time 

1  Adv.  Idcer.,  ii.  1.  2  Euseb.,  H.  E.,  v.  1 1.  3  Strom.,  iii.  553  (ed.  Potter). 

4  tCov  avenadev  irpea^vr^poou,  Euseb.,  //.  E.,  vi.  14.  5  Adv.  Marc.,  iv.  2-6. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


207 


as  the  Muratorian  Fragment,  begins  with  the  four  Gospels.  The 
canon  of  Scripture  was  then  in  process  of  formation ;  and  the 
absence  from  the  Peshito  of  the  second  and  third  Epistles  of  John, 
second^  Peter,  Jude,  and  Revelation,  —  books  which  were  disputed 
in  the  ancient  church,  —  is  a  proof  at  once  of  the  antiquity  of  that 
version  and  of  the  value  of  the  testimony  given  by  it  to  the  uni¬ 
versal  reception  of  the  Gospels. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Fathers  who  have  been 
named  above  are  here  referred  to,  not  for  the  value  of  their  opin¬ 
ion  as  individuals  in  regard  to  the  authorship  of  the  Gospels,  but 
as  witnesses  for  the  footing  which  they  had  in  the  churches.  These 
Christian  societies  now  encircled  the  Mediterranean.  They  were 
scattered  over  the  Roman  Empire  from  Syria  to  Spain.1  No 
doubt  the  exultation  of  the  Fathers  of  the  second  century  over  the 
rapid  spread  and  the  prospects  of  Christianity  led  to  hyperbole  in 
describing  the  progress  it  had  made.2  But,  making  all  due  allow¬ 
ance  for  rhetorical  fervor,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that,  in  writing 
for  contemporaries,  it  would  have  been  folly  for  them  intentionally 
to  indulge  in  misstatement  in  a  matter  of  statistics  with  which 
their  readers  were  as  well  acquainted  as  they  were  themselves. 
Christians  had  become  numerous  enough  to  excite  anxiety  more 
and  more  in  the  rulers  of  the  empire.  The  question  to  be  an¬ 
swered  is,  how  this  numerous,  widely  dispersed  body  had  been 
led  unanimously  to  pitch  upon  these  four  narratives  as  the  sole 
authorities  for  the  history  of  Jesus.  For  what  reasons  had  they 
adopted,  nutto  contradicente ,  these  four  Gospels  exclusively,  one 
of  which  was  ascribed  to  Matthew,  a  comparatively  obscure  apos¬ 
tle,  and  two  others  to  Luke  and  Mark,  neither  of  whom  belonged 
among  the  Twelve  ? 

But  the  situation  of  these  Fathers  personally,  as  it  helps  us  to 
determine  the  value  of  their  judgment  on  the  main  question,  is 

1  There  were  Christians  in  Spain  (Irenseus,  Adv.  Fleer,,  i.  10,  2;  Tertullian, 
Adv.  Judceos,  c.  7).  If,  as  is  probable,  Spain  is  designated  by  the  to  -rlp/ia 
t r)s  dvaews  of  Clement  of  Rome  (Ep.,  v.),  St.  Paul  visited  that  country.  See 
Bishop  Lightfoot’s  note  (  The  Epp.  of  Clement  of  Rome ,  p.  49). 

2  Tertullian  ( Adv .  Judceos,  c.  7;  Apol .,  c.  37),  Irenseus  ( Adv .  Hcer.,  i.  10, 
1,  2;  iii.  4,  1),  cf.  Justin  (Dial.,  c.  1 1 7) .  For  Gibbon’s  comments  on  these 
statements,  see  Decline  and  Fall,  etc.,  ch.  xv.  (Smith’s  ed.,  ii.  213,  n.  177)* 
Gibbon  refers  to  Origen’s  remark  ( Contra  Cels.,  viii.  69),  that  the  Christians 
are  “very  few”  comparatively ;  but  he  omits  another  passage  (c.  ix.)  of  the 
same  work,  in  which  Origen  refers  to  them  as  a  “multitude,”  of  all  ranks. 


20 8  THE  GROUNDS  OF  TH  El  STIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

worth  considering.  Irenaeus  has  occasion,  in  connection  with  the 
passage  already  cited  from  him,  to  dwell  on  the  tradition  respect¬ 
ing  the  teaching  of  the  apostles  which  is  preserved  in  the  various 
churches  founded  by  them.  Of  these  churches  he  says,  that  it  is 
easy  to  give  the  lists  of  their  bishops  back  to  their  foundation. 
By  way  of  example,  he  states  the  succession  of  the  Roman  bishops. 
In  these  lists,  as  given  by  the  ancient  writers,  there  will  be  some 
discrepancies  as  to  the  earliest  names,  owing  chiefly  to  the  fact 
that,  in  the  time  before  episcopacy  was  fully  developed,  leading 
presbyters,  and  not  always  the  same  persons,  would  be  set  down 
in  the  catalogues.1  But  a  person  who  is  familiar  now  with  any 
particular  church  in  whose  history  he  has  felt  a  strong  interest  will 
have  little  difficulty  in  recounting  the  succession  of  its  pastors  ex¬ 
tending  back  for  a  century,  and  will  not  be  ignorant  of  any  very 
remarkable  events  which  have  occurred  in  its  affairs  during  that 
period.  Moreover,  Irenaeus  was  acquainted  with  individuals  who 
had  been  taught  by  John  and  by  other  apostles.  He  had  known 
in  early  life  Polycarp,  whose  recollections  of  the  Apostle  John 
were  fresh.2  He  had  conferred  with  “  elders  ”  —  that  is,  venerated 
leaders  in  the  Church,  of  an  earlier  day  —  who  had  been  pupils  of 
men  whom  the  apostles  had  instructed.  His  language  indicates 
that  some  of  them  had  sat  at  the  feet  of  the  apostles  themselves.3 
Of  one  of  these  “  elders  ”  in  particular  he  makes  repeated  men¬ 
tion,  whose  name  is  not  given,  but  whom  in  one  place  he  styles 
“  apostolorum  discipulus.”  4  The  phrase  hardly  admits  of  more 
than  one  interpretation.  {Pothinus,  whom  Irenaeus  succeeded  at 
Lyons,  was  thrown  into  prison  in  the  persecution  under  Marcus 
Aurelius,  a.d.  177,  and  died  two  days  after,  being  past  ninety 

1  Gieseler’s  Church  History,  I.  i.  3,  §  34,  n.  10. 

2  Adv.  Hear.,  iii.  3,  4;  Epist.  ad  Flor. 

3  Adv.  Hear.,  ii.  22,  5;  iii.  1,  1;  iii.  3,  4;  v.  32,  I;  v.  33,  3;  v.  33,  4;  cf. 
Euseb.,  H.  E.,  iii.  23,  iv.  14,  v.  8.  In  iv.  27,  1,  Irenaeus  speaks  of  what  he  had 
heard  from  a  certain  presbyter  “  who  had  heard  from  those  who  had  seen  the 
Apostles,  et  ab  his  qui  didicerant.”  The  last  clause  may  denote  “those  who 
were  disciples  of  Christ  himself,”  or  the  “  ab  his  ”  may  belong  after  “  qui,”  and 
the  meaning  may  be  “  those  who  had  been  taught  ”  by  such  as  had  seen  the 
apostles.  See  the  comment  of  Lightfoot,  Essays  on  Supernatural  Religion, 
p.  266.  See  also  the  elaborate  discussion,  embracing  a  review  of  Harnack’s 
interpretations,  in  Zahn’s  Forschungen  zur  Gesch.  d.  N.  T.  Kanons  u.  d.  alt- 
kirchl.  Lit.,  Theil  vi.,  p.  53  seq. 

4  Adv.  Hcer.,  iv.  32,  1. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


209 


years  old.  Pothinus  was  probably  from  Asia  Minor,  whence  the 
church  at  Lyons  was  planted.  His  memory  ran  back  beyond  the 
beginning  of  the  century.  He  is  one  of  many  who  had  numbered 
among  their  acquaintances  younger  contemporaries  of  apostles. 
Clement  of  Alexandria  was  a  pupil  of  Pantaenug>  who  had  founded 
the  catechetical  school  there  shortly  after  the  middle  of  the  second 
century.  As  a  Christian  learner,  he  had  been  taught  by  promi¬ 
nent  teachers  in  different  countries  in  the  East  and  in  the  West. 
In  all  of  the  oldest  churches  there  were  persons  who  were  sepa¬ 
rated  from  apostles  by  only  one  link. 

The  attempt  has  often  been  made  to  discredit  the  testimony  of 
Irenaeus  by  reference  to  a  passage  which  really  strengthens  it. 
After  asserting  that  there  are  four  Gospels  and  no  more,  he  fan¬ 
cifully  refers  to  the  analogy  of  the  four  winds,  four  divisions  of  the 
earth,  four  faces  of  the  cherubim,  four  covenants,  etc.1  We  are 
told  by  Froude,  “  That  there  were  four  true  evangelists,  and  that 
there  could  be  neither  more  nor  less  than  four,  Irenaeus  had  per¬ 
suaded  himself,  because  there  were  four  winds  or  spirits,”  etc.2  It 
is  plain  to  every  reader  of  Irenaeus,  that  his  belief  in  the  four 
Gospels  is  founded  on  the  witness  given  by  the  churches  and  by 
well-informed  individuals,  to  their  authenticity,  and  that  these 
analogies  merely  indicate  how  entirely  unquestioned  was  the 
authority  of  the  Gospels  in  his  own  mind  and  in  the  minds  of  all 
Christian  people.  It  was  something  as  well  settled  as  the  cos- 
mical  system.  If  some  enthusiast  for  the  Hanoverian  house  were 
to  throw  out  the  suggestion  that  there  must  be  four,  and  only  four, 
Georges,  because  there  are  four  quarters  of  the  globe,  four  winds, 
etc.,  Froude  would  hardly  announce  that  the  man’s  conviction  of 
the  historic  fact  that  those  four  kings  have  ruled  in  England  is 
founded  on  these  fanciful  parallels.  Froude  himself  shrinks  from 
his  own  assertion  as  quoted  above ;  for  he  adds,  “  It  is  not  to  be 
supposed  that  the  intellects  of  those  great  men  who  converted  the 
world  to  Christianity  were  satisfied  with  arguments  so  imaginative  as 
these  ;  they  must  have  had  other  closer  and  more  accurate  grounds 
for  the  decision,”  etc.  But  then  he  continues,  “The  mere  em¬ 
ployment  of  such  figures  as  evidence  in  any  sense  shows  the 
enormous  difference  between  their  modes  of  reasoning  and  ours, 
and  illustrates  the  difficulty  of  deciding,  at  our  present  distance 
from  them,  how  far  their  conclusions  were  satisfactory.”  If  they 

1  Adv.  Hcer .,  iii.  2,  7.  2  Short  Studies  on  Great  Subjects,  p.  213. 


210  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


had  “  other  closer  and  more  accurate  ”  grounds  of  belief,  why 
should  such  instances  of  weakness  in  reasoning,  even  were  it  in¬ 
tended  as  strict  reasoning,  operate  to  destroy  the  value  of  their 
testimony?  A  man  who  is  not  a  faultless  logician  may  be  a 
perfectly  credible  witness  to  facts  within  his  cognizance.  But  the 
inference  suggested  by  Froude’s  remark  as  to  the  intellectual 
character  of  Irenseus  is  hasty.  A  single  instance  of  weak  rea¬ 
soning  is  a  slender  basis  for  so  broad  a  conclusion.  Jonathan 
Edwards  is  rightly  considered  a  man  of  penetrating  intellect  and 
of  unsurpassed  skill  in  logic.  Yet  in  his  diary  he  makes  this 
absurd  remark  :  “  January,  1728.  I  think  Christ  has  recommended 
rising  early  in  the  morning,  by  his  rising  from  the  grave  so  early.”  1 
Certainly  no  one  would  feel  himself  justified,  on  account  of 
Edwards’s  remark,  in  disputing  his  word  on  a  matter  of  fact  within 
his  personal  cognizance.  We  do  not  mean  that  Irenseus  had  the 
same  measure  of  intellectual  vigor  as  Edwards ;  nevertheless,  he 
is  not  to  be  stigmatized  as  a  weak  man,  and  he  furnishes  in  his 
writings  a  great  many  examples  of  sound  reasoning.  The  inference 
unfavorable  to  the  value  of  his  testimony,  which  Froude  in  com¬ 
mon  with  many  others  has  drawn  from  a  single  instance  of  fanciful 
argument  or  illustration,  is  itself  an  example  of  flimsy  logic. 

In  quoting  the  statements  of  the  Christian  writers  of  the  closing 
part  of  the  second  century,  it  is  not  implied,  of  course,  that  either 
they  or  their  informants  were  incapable  of  error.  Who  does  not 
know  that  traditions,  the  substance  of  which  is  perfectly  trust¬ 
worthy,  may  interweave  incidental  or  minor  details,  which,  if  not 
without  foundation,  at  least  require  to  be  sifted  ?  A  tradition  may 
take  up  new  features  of  this  character,  even  in  passing  from  one 
individual  to  another,  when  there  is  an  average  degree  of  accuracy 
in  both.  But  every  intelligent  historical  critic  knows  the  distinc¬ 
tion  which  is  to  be  made  between  essential  facts  and  their  acces¬ 
sories.  It  is  only  the  ignorant,  or  the  sophist  who  has  an  end  to 
accomplish,  that  ignore  this  distinction,  and  seek  to  apply  the 
maxim,  fcilsus  in  uno ,  falsus  in  omnibus ,  which  relates  to  wilful 
mendacity,  to  the  undesigned  modifications  which  oral  statements 
are  almost  sure  to  experience  in  the  process  of  transmission  from 
one  to  another.  It  is  evident  that  the  few  documents  on  which 
the  Christians  of  the  second  century  depended  for  their  knowledge 
of  the  life  and  ministry  of  Christ  must  have  had  an  importance 

1  Dwight’s  Life  of  Edwards,  p.  106. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


21  I 


in  their  eyes  which  would  render  the  main  facts  as  to  the  origin 
of  these  writings  of  extreme  interest  and  importance.  As  to  these 
documents,  the  foundation  of  the  faith  for  which  they  were  ex¬ 
posing  themselves  to  torture  and  death,  information  would  be 
earnestly  sought  and  highly  prized.  That  this  curiosity,  which 
we  should  expect  to  find,  really  existed,  the  ecclesiastical  writers 
plainly  indicate. 

Let  us  now  step  back  from  the  age  of  Irenaeus  to  the  first  half 
oiLthe  second  century.  In  that  obscure  period,  where  so  many 
writings  which  might  have  thrown  light  on  the  questions  before 
us  have  perished,  there  is  one  author  who  is  competent  to  afford 
us  welcome  information.  It  is  Justin  Martyr.  He  was  born  in 
Palestine,  at  Flavia  Neapolis,  near  the  site  of  the  ancient  Sichem. 
He  was  in  Ephesus  about  a.d.  135.  He  had  been  an  adherent  of 
the  Platonic  School,  and  at  this  date  wore  the  garb  of  a  philosopher, 
a  fact  which  shows  that  he  was  not  a  youth.  From  his  pen  there 
remain  two  apologies,  the  second  being  the  sequel  or  appendix  of 
the  first,  which  was  addressed  to  Antoninus  Pius,  not  later  than 
a.d.  152,  and  a  dialogue  with  Trypho,  a  Jew.  In  these  writings, 
two  of  which  are  directed  to  heathen,  and  the  third  designed  to 
influence  Jews,  there  was  no  occasion  to  refer  to  the  Evangelists 
by  name.  The  sources  from  which  he  draws  his  accounts  of  the 
life  and  teaching  of  Jesus  are  styled  Memoirs ,  a  term  borrowed 
from  the  title  given  by  Xenophon  to  his  reminiscences  of  Socrates. 
Were  these  Memoirs  the  four  Gospels  of  the  canon?  1 

The  first  observation  to  be  made  is,  that  a  tolerably  full  narra¬ 
tive  of  the  life  of  Jesus  can  be  put  together  from  Justin’s  quota¬ 
tions  and  allusions,  and  that  this  narrative  coincides  with  the 
canonical  Gospels.  The  quotations  are  not  verbally  accurate ; 
neither  are  Justin’s  citations  from  heathen  writers  or  the  Old 
Testament  prophets.  He  is  not  always  in  verbal  agreement  with 


1  On  the  subject  of  the  Memoirs  of  Justin  and  his  quotations,  the  following 
writers  are  of  special  value :  Semisch,  Die  apostolischen  Denkwurdigkeiten 
des  Mar tyrers  Justinus  (1848);  Sanday,  The  Gospels  in  the  Second  Century , 
pp.  88-138;  Norton,  The  Evidences  of  the  Gemiineness  of  the  Gospels,  vol.  i. 
pp.  200-240,  ccxiv.-ccxxxiii.;  Westcott,  History  of  the  Canon  of  the  N.  T. 
(1881),  pp.  96-179;  Professor  E.  Abbot,  “The  Authorship  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel,”  Critical  Essays  (I);  Purves,  The  Testimony  of  Justin  Martyr,  etc. 
(1889);  also  Bleep’s  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.  (ed.  Mangold),  p.  271  seq.  ;  Hilgen- 
feld’s  Kritisch.  Untersuch.  uber  die  Evangell.  Justins ,  der  Clementiner ,  u. 
Marcions. 


212  THE  GROUNDS  OF  TIIEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


himself  when  he  has  occasion  to  cite  a  passage  or  to  refer  to  an 
incident  more  than  once.1  It  was  not  a  custom  of  the  early 
Fathers  to  quote  the  New  Testament  writers  with  verbal  accuracy. 
Justin  blends  together  statements  in  the  different  Gospels.  This 
is  easily  accounted  for  on  the  supposition  that  he  was  quoting  from 
memory,  and  when  it  is  remembered  that,  for  the  purpose  which 
he  had  in  view,  he  had  no  motive  to  set  off  carefully  to  each 
Evangelist  what  specially  belonged  to  him.  A  similar  habit  of  con¬ 
necting  circumstances  from  the  several  Gospels  is  not  unfrequent 
at  present,  familiar  as  these  writings  have  now  become.  It  is  im¬ 
possible  here  to  combine  all  the  items  of  the  gospel  history  which 
may  be  gathered  up  from  Justin’s  writings,  but  an  idea  of  their 
character  and  extent  may  be  given  by  casting  a  portion  of  them 
into  a  consecutive  narrative.2 

The  Messiah,  according  to  Justin,  was  born  of  a  virgin.  Particulars 
of  the  annunciation  (Luke  i.  26,  31,  35)  and  of  Joseph’s  dream  (Matt, 
i.  18-25)  are  given.  He  was  born  in  Bethlehem,  where  his  parents 
were,  in  consequence  of  the  census  under  Quirinius.  He  was  laid  in  a 
manger,  was  worshipped  by  the  Magi,  was  carried  by  his  parents  into 
Egypt  on  account  of  the  machinations  of  Herod,  which  led  to  the 
massacre  of  the  children  in  Bethlehem.  From  Egypt  they  returned, 
after  the  death  of  Herod.  At  Nazareth  Jesus  grew  up  to  the  age  of 
thirty,  and  was  a  carpenter  (Mark  vi.  3).  There  he  remained  until 
John  appeared  in  his  wild  garb,  declaring  that  he  was  not  the  Christ 
(John  i.  19  seq .),  but  that  One  stronger  than  he  was  coming,  whose 
shoes  he  was  not  worthy  to  bear.  John  was  put  in  prison,  and  was  be¬ 
headed,  at  a  feast  on  Herod’s  birthday,  at  the  instance  of  his  sister’s 
daughter  (Matt.  xiv.  6  seq.').  This  John  was  the  Elijah  who  was  to 
come  (Matt.  xvii.  11-13).  Jesus  was  baptized  by  John  in  the  Jordan. 
The  temptation  followed.  To  Satan’s  demand  to  be  worshipped, 
Jesus  replied,  “  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,”  etc.  Jesus  wrought  mira¬ 
cles,  healing  the  blind,  dumb,  lame,  all  weakness  and  disease,  and 
raising  the  dead.  He  began  his  teaching  by  proclaiming  that  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand  (Matt.  iv.  17).  Justin  introduces  a  large 
number  of  the  precepts  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  sayings  from  the 
narrative  of  the  centurion  of  Capernaum  (Matt.  viii.  11,12;  Luke  xiii. 

1  Eg.  Matt.  xi.  27.  See  Apol. ,  i.  63;  Dial.,  106. 

2  The  quotations  from  Justin  are  collected  in  Credner’s  Beitrage  zur  Einl ., 
etc.,  pp.  150-209.  The  resume  above  is  mainly  abridged  from  Dr.  Sanday’s 
The  Gospels  in  the  Second  Century ,  pp.  91-98.  Summaries  of  a  like  nature 
are  given  in  Mr.  Sadler’s  The  Lost  Gospel  and  its  Contents  (London,  1876); 
also  by  Purves,  The  Testimony  of  Justin  Martyr ,  p.  179  seq. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


213 


28,  29),  and  of  the  feast  in  the  house  of  Matthew.  He  brings  in  the 
choosing  of  the  twelve  disciples,  the  name  Boanerges  given  to  the  sons 
of  Zebedee  (Mark  iii.  17),  the  commission  of  the  apostles,  the  discourse 
of  Jesus  after  the  departure  of  the  messengers  of  John,  the  sign  of  the 
prophet  Jonah,  Peter’s  confession  of  faith  (Matt.  xvi.  15-18),  the  an¬ 
nouncement  of  the  passion  (Matt.  xvi.  21).  Justin  has  the  story  of  the 
rich  young  man;  the  entry  of  Jesus  into  Jerusalem;  the  cleansing  of 
the  temple  ;  the  wedding-garment ;  the  conversations  upon  the  tribute- 
money,  upon  the  resurrection  (Luke  xx.  35,  36),  and  upon  the  greatest 
commandment ;  the  denunciations  of  the  Pharisees  ;  the  eschatological 
discourse;  and  the  parable  of  the  talents  (Matt.  xxv.  14-30).  Justin’s 
account  of  the  institution  of  the  Lord’s  Supper  corresponds  to  that  of 
Luke.  Jesus  is  said  to  have  sung  a  hymn  at  the  close  of  the  Supper,  to 
have  retired  with  three  of  his  disciples  to  the  Mount  of  Olives,  to  have 
been  in  an  agony,  his  sweat  falling  in  drops  to  the  ground  (Luke  xxii. 
42-44).  His  followers  forsook  him.  He  was  brought  before  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees,  and  before  Pilate.  He  kept  silence  before  Pilate. 
Pilate  sent  him  bound  to  Herod  (Luke  xxiii.  7).  Most  of  the  circum¬ 
stances  of  the  crucifixion  are  narrated  by  Justin,  such  as  the  piercing 
with  nails,  the  casting  of  lots,  the  fact  of  sneers  uttered  by  the  crowd, 
the  cry,  “  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me?  ”  and  the  last 
words,  “  Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit  ”  (Luke  xxiii.  46). 
Christ  is  said  to  have  been  buried  in  the  evening,  the  disciples  being 
all  scattered,  according  to  Zech.  xiii.  7  (Matt.  xxvi.  31,  56).  On  the 
third  day  he  rose  from  the  dead.  He  convinced  his  disciples  that  his 
sufferings  had  been  predicted  (Luke  xxiv.  26,  46).  He  gave  them  his 
last  commission.  They  saw  him  ascend  into  heaven  (Luke  xxiv.  50). 
The  Jews  spread  a  story  that  the  disciples  stole  the  body  of  Jesus  from 
the  grave  (Matt,  xxviii.  3). 

This  is  a  mere  outline  of  the  references  to  the  gospel  history 
which  are  scattered  in  profusion  through  Justin’s  writings.  A  full 
citation  of  them  would  exhibit  more  impressively  their  correspond¬ 
ence  to  the  Gospels.  Harnack  does  not  doubt  that  the  Gospel 
and  the  First  Epistle  of  John  were  known  and  cherished  by  Papias 
and  the  Presbyters,  his  informants,  and  that  both  works  were 
extant  before  the  end  of  Trajan’s  reign.  There  is  no  longer  need, 
so  far  as  their  date  is  concerned,  to  discuss  their  relation  either  to 
Justin,  or  to  Valentinus,  or  to  Marcion.1  The  larger  portion  of 
the  matter,  it  will  be  perceived,  accords  with  what  we  find  in 
Matthew  and  Luke  ;  a  small  portion  of  it,  however,  is  found  in 
Mark  exclusively.  The  Synoptics  had  been  longer  in  use,  and 


1  Harnack,  Die  Chronologie  d.  altchristl.  Lit.,  I.  pp.  658,  659. 


214  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


citations  from  them,  especially  of  sayings  of  Christ,  were  more 
current.  Besides,  Justin’s  aim  was  an  apologetic  one.  He  was 
not  writing  for  Christian  believers.  Passages  from  the  Synoptics 
he  might  naturally  find  better  suited  to  the  special  ends  he  had  in 
view.  But  there  are  not  wanting  clear  and  striking  correspond¬ 
ences  to  John.  The  most  important  of  these  single  passages  is 
that  relating  to  regeneration,1  which,  notwithstanding  certain 
verbal  variations  to  be  noticed  hereafter,  bears  a  close  resem¬ 
blance  to  John  iii.  3-5.  Again  :  Christ  is  said  by  Justin  to  have 
reproached  the  Jews  as  knowing  neither  the  Father  nor  the  Son 
(John  viii.  19,  xvi.  3).  He  is  said  to  have  healed  those  who  were 
blind  from  “  their  birth,” 2  using  here  a  phrase  which,  like  the 
fact,  is  found  in  John  alone  among  the  Evangelists  (John  ix.  1). 
Strongly  as  these  and  some  other  passages  resemble  incidents  and 
sayings  in  John,  the  correspondence  of  Justin’s  doctrinal  state¬ 
ments  respecting  the  divinity  of  Christ  and  the  Logos  to  the 
teaching  of  the  fourth  Gospel  is  even  more  significant.  These 
statements  are  so  many,  and  the  emphasis  attached  to  the  doctrine 
is  such,  that  an  acknowledged  authority  must  be  at  the  basis  of 
them.  Justin  speaks  of  Christ  as  the  Son  of  God,  “who  alone  is 
properly  called  Son,  the  Word  ;  who  also  was  with  him,  and  was 
begotten  before”  the  works. 3  He  says  of  Christ,  that  “  he  took 
flesh,  and  became  man.”4  We  are  “to  recognize  him  as  God 
coming  forth  from  above,  and  Man  living  among  men.” 5  Concep¬ 
tions  of  this  sort  expressed  in  language  either  identical  with  that 
of  John,  or  closely  resembling  it,  enter  into  the  warp  and  woof 
of  Justin’s  doctrinal  system.  They  are  both  in  substance  and  style 
Johannean.  It  is  not  strange  that  he  was  acquainted  with  the 
Alexandrian  Jewish  philosophy,  and  that  traces  of  its  influence  are 
not  absent.  But  the  incarnation  was  a  conception  foreign  to  that 
system.  Professed  theologians  may  think  themselves  able  to  point 
out  shades  of  difference  between  Justin’s  idea  of  the  preexistence 
and  divinity  of  Christ  and  that  of  the  fourth  Gospel.  But,  if  there 
be  an  appreciable  difference,  it  is  far  less  marked  than  differences 
which  subsist  among  ancient  and  modern  interpreters  of  the  Gospel 
without  number.  The  efforts  of  the  author  of  the  work  entitled 
Supernatural  Religion  to  make  out  a  great  diversity  of  idea  from 

8  Apol.,  ii.  6.  Cf.  Dial.,  129. 

4  Ibid.,  i.  32. 


1  Apol.,  i.  61. 

2  Dial.,  c.  49. 


6  Ibid.,  i.  23. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


215 


unimportant  variations  of  language  —  as  in  the  statement  that  the 
Logos  “  became  man,”  instead  of  the  Hebraic  expression,  “  be¬ 
came  flesh  ”  —  hardly  merit  attention.  Some  of  his  criticisms 
apply  with  equal  force  to  the  Nicene  Creed,  and  would  prove  its 
authors  to  have  been  unacquainted  with  the  fourth  Gospel,  or  not 
to  have  believed  in  it.1 

The  next  observation  respecting  Justin  is,  that  his  reference  to 
events  or  sayings  in  the  Gospel  history  which  have  not  substantial 
parallels  in  the  four  evangelists  are  few  and  insignificant.2  They 
embrace  not  more  than  two  sayings  of  Jesus.  The  first  is,  “  In  what 
things  I  shall  apprehend  you,  in  these  will  I  judge  you,” 3  which  is 
found  also  in  Clement  of  Alexandria 4  and  Hippolytus.5  The  second 
is,  “  There  shall  be  schisms  and  heresies,”  6  —  a  prediction  referred  also 
to  Christ  by  Tertullian7  and  Clement.8  Thus  both  passages  occur  in 
other  writers  who  own  no  authoritative  Gospels  but  the  four  of  the 
canon.  Justin  represents  the  voice  from  heaven  at  the  baptism  of 
Jesus  as  saying,  “Thou  art  my  Son;  this  day  have  I  begotten  thee,”  9 
—  a  combination  of  expressions,  which  is  found  in  the  Codex  Bezas,  in 

1  See  The  Lost  Gospel ,  etc.,  p.  91.  In  Dial.,  c.  105,  Justin  is  more  natu¬ 
rally  understood  as  referring  a  statement  peculiar  to  the  Memoirs  to  John. 
See  Professor  E.  Abbot,  “  Authorship  of  the  Fourth  Gospel,”  in  Critical 
Essays,  p.  45. 

2  Scholars  have  searched  in  the  early  Christian  literature  for  sayings  attrib¬ 
uted  to  Christ  which  are  not  found  in  the  four  Gospels.  The  best  known 
example  of  these  agrapha,  as  they  are  termed,  is  the  saying  in  Acts  xx.  35, 
“  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.”  One  of  the  best  of  the 
class  of  authors  referred  to  is  Resch,  whose  collection  of  materials  has 
been  critically  examined  by  Professor  J.  H.  Ropes.  ( Die  Spriiche  Jesu,  etc., 
in  Gebhardt  u.  Harnack’s  Texte  u.  U nter suchun gen,  etc.,  xiv.  2.)  Professor 
Ropes  reduces  the  number  of  such  non-canonical  sayings  which,  with  any 
measure  of  probability,  are  really  traceable  to  Jesus,  to  twenty-one.  The  Oxy- 
rhynchus  Fragment,  discovered  not  long  ago  in  Egypt,  contains  seven  logia,  or 
sayings  of  this  character.  Other  local  or  special  collections  of  a  like  nature 
may,  perhaps,  yet  be  found.  It  must  be  said,  however,  that  on  the  lists  occur 
a  not  inconsiderable  number,  a  comparison  of  which  with  the  canonical  say¬ 
ings  of  Christ  awakens  a  decided  doubt  as  to  their  authenticity. 

3  Dial.,  c.  47.  4  Quis  div.  salvus,  c.  40. 

6  Opp.  ed.  de  Lag.,  p.  73  (Otto’s  Justin,  i.  2,  p.  161,  n.  21).  The  origin  of 
the  passage  has  been  traced  by  some  to  Ezekiel,  to  whom  Justin  refers  in 
the  context.  See  Ezek.  vii.  3,  8,  xviii.  30,  xxiv.  14,  xxxiii.  20.  Otto  suggests 
that  it  may  have  been  a  marginal  summary  attached  by  some  one  to  Matt, 
xxiv.  40  seq.,  xxv.  I  seq. 

6  Dial.,  c.  35,  cf.  c.  51;  cf.  1  Cor.  xi.  18,  19.  7  De  Prcescript.  Hcer.,  c.  4. 

8  Strom.,  vii.  15,  §  90.  9  Dial.,  c.  88,  cf.  c.  103. 


216  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


Clement  of  Alexandria,1  in  Augustine,2  and  is  said  by  him  to  be  the 
reading  in  some  manuscripts,  though  not  the  oldest.3  The  recurrence 
of  the  same  expression  in  Ps.  ii.  7,  or  Acts  xiii.  33,  Heb.  i.  5,  v.  5,  led 
naturally  to  a  confusion  of  memory,  out  of  which  this  textual  reading 
may  have  easily  sprung.  That  Jesus  was  charged  by  the  Jews  with 
being  a  magician  4  is  a  statement  made  by  Lactantius  5  as  well  as  by 
Justin.  There  is  evidence  that  it  was  probably  derived  by  Justin  from 
his  Jewish  contemporaries.  The  incidental  saying,  that  the  ass  on 
which  Jesus  rode  was  tied  to  a  vine,6  was  probably  a  detail  taken  up 
from  Gen.  xlix.  11,  with  which  it  is  connected  by  Justin.  The  say¬ 
ing  connected  with  the  designation  of  Jesus  as  a  carpenter,  that  he 
made  ploughs  and  yokes,7  may  have  sprung  from  his  words  in  Luke  ix. 
62  and  Matt.  xi.  29,  30.  It  was  found  pleasant  to  imagine  him  to 
have  once  made  these  objects  to  which  he  figuratively  referred.8  Jus¬ 
tin  speaks  of  Jesus  as  having  been  born  in  a  cave,9  but  he  also  says  that 
he  was  laid  in  a  manger.  That  the  stable  which  contained  the  manger 
was  a  cave  or  grotto  was  a  current  tradition  in  the  time  of  Origen.10 
One  other  allusion  is  found  in  the  brief  catalogue  of  uncanonical  passages 
in  Justin.  He  speaks  of  a  fire  kindled  on  the  Jordan  in  connection  with 
the  baptism  of  Jesus,  —  a  circumstance  which  might  have  mingled  itself 
early  in  the  oral  tradition.  These  constitute  the  supplement  to  the  con¬ 
tents  of  the  four  Gospels  to  be  found  in  the  mass  of  Justin’s  references  :  11 

1  Peed.,  i.  6.  2  Enchir.  ad.  Laur.,  c.  49. 

3  De  Cons.  Evv.,  ii.  14  (Otto,  i.  1,  p.  325). 

4  Dial.,  c.  49,  cf.  Apol.,  i.  30.  8  See  Otto,  i.  2,  p.  324;  Semisch,  p.  393. 

6  Institutt.,  v.  3.  9  Dial.,  c.  78. 

6  Apol,  i.  c.  32.  10  Coni.  Cclsum,  i.  31. 

7  Dial,  c.  88. 

11  Other  slight  variations  from  the  Gospels  are  sometimes  owing  to  the  wish 
of  Justin  to  accommodate  the  facts  in  the  life  of  Jesus  to  the  predictions  of 
the  Old  Testament.  This  is  especially  the  case,  as  might  be  expected,  in  the 
dialogue  with  Trypho  the  Jew.  The  following,  it  is  believed,  are  all  the  in¬ 
stances  of  circumstantial  deviation  from  the  Evangelists.  Mary  is  said  to  have 
descended  from  David  ( Dial .,  c.  43,  cf.  cc.  45,  100,  120).  This  statement  is 
connected  (c.  68)  with  Isa.  vii.  13.  Irenaeus  and  Tertullian  say  the  same  of 
Mary.  The  Magi  came  from  Arabia  {Dial.,  c.  77,  cf.  cc.  78,  88,  102,  106),  on 
the  basis  of  Ps.  lxxii.  10,  15;  Isa.  lx.  6.  The  same  is  said  by  many  later  writers 
(Semisch,  p.  385).  In  connection  with  Ps.  xxii.  11,  it  is  said  {Dial.,  c.  103), 
that,  when  Jesus  was  seized,  not  a  single  person  was  there  to  help  him.  In 
Dial.,  c.  103,  Pilate  is  said  to  have  sent  Jesus  to  Herod  bound ;  this  being 
suggested  by  Hos.  vi.  1.  So  Tertullian,  Adv.  Marc.,  iv.  c.  42;  also  Cyril  of 
Jerusalem  (see  Otto,  i.  2,  p.  370,  n.  14).  The  Jews,  it  is  said  {Apol,  i.  35), 
set  Jesus  on  the  judgment-seat,  and  said,  “Judge  us,”  —  which  may  be  a 
confused  recollection  of  John  xix.  13,  in  connection  with  Matt,  xxvii. 
26,  30.  In  Dial.,  i.  101  (Apol.  i.  38),  the  bystanders  at  the  cross  are 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


217 


and,  as  the  author  of  Supernatural  Religion,  the  work  referred  to  above, 
observes,  “  Justin’s  works  teem  with  these  quotations.”  In  the  index 
to  Otto’s  critical  edition  they  number  281.  It  may  be  here  remarked, 
that  not  one  of  these  supplementary  scraps  is  referred  by  Justin  to  the 
Memoirs. 

It  is  thus  evident  that,  whatever  the  Memoirs  were,  their  con¬ 
tents  were  substantially  coincident  with  the  contents  of  the  four 
Gospels.  It  is  a  necessary  inference  that,  at  the  time  when  Justin 
wrote,  there  existed  a  well-established  tradition  respecting  the  life 
and  teaching  of  Jesus  ;  for  the  Memoirs ,  he  tells  us,  were  read  on 
Sundays  in  the  churches,  in  city  and  country.1  The  period  of  his 
theological  activity  was  from  about  a.d.  140  to  a.d.  160.  None 
will  probably  be  disposed  to  question  that  as  early,  at  least,  as 
a.d.  135,  which  was  some  time  after  his  conversion  to  Christianity, 
he  was  conversant  with  this  gospel  tradition,  and  knew  that  it  was 
inculcated  in  the  churches.  The  Jewish  war  of  Barchochebas 
(a.d.  131  to  136),  he  says,  was  in  his  own  time.2  But  that  date 
(a.d.  135),  to  which  the  personal  recollection  of  Justin  on  this 
subject  extended,  was  only  thirty-seven  years  after  the  accession 
of  Trajan,  —  an  event  which  preceded  the  death  of  the  Apostle 
John  at  Ephesus.3  If  the  date  of  Justin’s  acquaintance  with  the 
habitual  teaching  of  the  church  respecting  the  life  of  Jesus  were 
1902,  in  the  room  of  135,  the  termination  of  the  apostle’s  life 
would  be  set  no  farther  back  from  us  than  1865.  Justin  incident¬ 
ally  remarks,  that  many  men  and  women  sixty  or  seventy  years 
old,  who  had  been  Christians  from  their  youth,  were  to  be  found 

said  to  have  distorted  their  lips,  —  the  thing  predicted  in  Ps.  xxii.  7  ;  and  in 
Apol. ,  i.  38,  on  the  basis  of  several  passages  in  the  Psalms,  they  are  said  to 
have  cried  out,  “  He  who  raised  the  dead,  let  him  save  himself.”  In  Apol.,  i. 
50,  the  disciples  after  the  crucifixion  are  said  to  have  fled  from  Christ,  and 
denied  him  ;  and  in  c.  106  (cf.  c.  53)  they  are  said  to  have  repented  of  it 
after  the  resurrection  ;  the  prophetic  references  being  Zech.  xiii.  7,  and  Isa. 
liii.  1-8.  In  Dial.,  c.  35,  Jesus  is  represented  as  predicting  that  “  false  apos¬ 
tles  ”  (as  well  as  false  prophets)  will  arise.  This  is  not  presented  as  an  instance 
of  prophecy  fulfilled;  but  the  same  thing  is  found  in  Tertullian,  De  Prase. 
Hcerett.,  c.  4,  and  in  other  writers.  In  Dial.,  c.  51,  Jesus  predicts  his  reap¬ 
pearance  at  Jerusalem,  and  that  he  will  eat  and  drink  with  his  disciples, — 
a  free  paraphrase  of  Matt.  xxvi.  29,  and  Luke  xxii.  18.  Not  one  of  these  pas¬ 
sages  in  the  context  where  it  occurs  would  naturally  lead  the  reader  to 
presuppose  any  other  source  of  them  than  the  canonical  Gospels. 

1  Apol.,  i.  67.  2  Ibid.,  i.  31.  3Irenseus,  Adv.  Har.,  ii.  22,  5;  iii.  3,  4. 


21 8  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


in  the  churches.1  Many  of  his  Christian  contemporaries  could 
remember  as  far  back  as  the  closing  decades  of  the  first  century. 
Is  it  reasonable  to  believe  that  in  the  interval  between  John  and 
Justin,  in  the  organized  Christian  societies  of  Syria,  Asia  Minor, 
and  Italy,  with  which  Justin  is  considered  to  have  been  conver¬ 
sant,  the  established  conception  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  of  his  doings 
and  sayings,  underwent  an  essential  alteration  ? 

Partly  on  the  basis  of  the  uncanonical  passages  in  Justin,  certain 
critics  have  contended  that  the  mass  of  his  quotations  were  derived 
from  some  other  Gospel  than  the  four ;  in  particular,  from  the  Gospel 
of  the  Hebrews,  or  from  an  apocryphal  Gospel  of  Peter.  There  was 
an  Aramaic  gospel,  commonly  called  “the  Gospel  according  to  the 
Hebrews,”  which  was  extensively  used  by  Jewish  Christians  in  Palestine 
and  Syria.  It  is  referred  to  by  a  number  of  the  Fathers.  Jerome  trans¬ 
lated  it  into  Greek  and  Latin.2  It  came  to  be  thought  that  it  was  the 
original  of  the  Gospel  of  Matthew  of  which  Papias  speaks.  Possibly 
this  was  true  of  it  in  its  primitive  form ;  for  it  underwent  various 
modifications.  In  all  its  forms,  however,  it  retained  its  affinity  to  our 
first  Gospel.  It  is  evident  from  the  fragments  that  remain  that  the 
canonical  Gospel  is  the  original,  and  that  the  deviations  from  it  in 
parallel  texts  in  the  Gospel  of  the  Hebrews  are  of  a  later  date.  “The 
Aramaic  fragments  contain  much  that  can  be  explained  and  understood 
only  on  the  hypothesis  that  it  is  a  recasting  of  the  canonical  text.”  3 
Respecting  the  Gospel  of  Peter,  we  have  a  statement,  preserved  in 
Eusebius,  of  Serapion,  who  was  bishop  of  Antioch  at  the  end  of  the 
second  and  beginning  of  the  third  century.  He  had  found  this  book 
in  use  by  some  in  the  town  of  Rhossus  in  Cilicia.  He  had  never  heard 
of  it  before.  It  was  tinged  with  the  heresy  of  Docetism,  although  in 
the  main  orthodox.  Eusebius  4  and  Jerome5  refer  to  it  as  an  heretical 
book  which  no  early  teacher  of  the  Church  had  made  use  of.  A  portion 
of  this  work,  which  was  discovered  in  1886-87,  embraces  a  consecutive 
account  of  the  Passion  and  Resurrection  of  Jesus.  It  is  later  than  the 
canonical  Gospels,  John  included,6  and  in  a  few  instances  varies  from 
them.  Justin  in  one  passage  7  speaks  of  the  change  in  Peter’s  name 
and  the  giving  of  the  name  Boanerges  to  James  and  John,  his  authority 

lApol.,  i.  15.  2  De  Vir.  III.,  c.  2. 

3  For  an  elaborate  and  critical  discussion  of  the  Gospel  of  the  Hebrews  in  its 
different  forms,  see  Zahn,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  II.  260  seq.,  and  other  passages, 
with  the  references  to  his  Gesch.  d.  Kanons  d.  N.  T.  Also  see  Harnack,  Die 

Chronologie  d.  altchristl.  Lit.,  I.  p.  625  seq. 

4  Euseb.,  H.  L.,  iii.  25.  5  De  Vir.  III.,  1. 

6  Harnack  now  concurs  in  the  opinion  that  this  is  probable.  Chronologie , 

I.  474-  7  AP°l;  i-  35- 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


219 


being  “his  [Peter’s]  Memoirs.”  This  last  incident  is  related  only  in 
the  Gospel  of  Mark,1  whose  Gospel  was  connected  by  the  ancient  writers 
with  Peter  as  its  indirect  source.  A  similar  passage  occurs  in  the  res¬ 
cued  fragment  of  the  Gospel  of  Peter.  Harnack  thinks  it  probable  that 
Justin  used  this  Gospel,  and  that  he  even  included  it  in  his  Gospel 
Memoirs .2  Schiirer  rightly  judges  that  the  evidence  does  not  suffice 
for  either  part  of  this  conclusion.  “  In  the  scantiness  of  the  data,”  he 
remarks,  “  it  is  quite  possible  that  Justin  and  the  apocryphal  Gospel,  as  to 
the  passages  in  question,  go  back  to  a  common  source.”3  Dr.  Sanday 
was  disposed  to  think  that  Justin  “used  this  new  Gospel,  but  not 
largely.”  He  adds  that  as  a  literary  substratum,  the  canonical  Gospels 
cover  very  nearly  the  whole  ground  which  the  apocryphal  Gospel 
covers.”  4  Dr.  Chase  (Hastings’  Dictionary  of  the  Bible ,  Art.  “  Peter 
Simon,”)  agrees  with  Schiirer.  To  the  present  writer  the  supposition 
of  the  use  of  it  by  Justin  appears  quite  improbable,  the  supposition  that 
he  makes  it  one  of  his  Memoirs,  eminently  so.  See  Chase’s  article. 
For  other  reasons  for  this  judgment,  see  p.  251  of  the  present  work. 

Formerly  certain  critics  were  disposed  to  think  that  Justin  drew 
the  main  portion  of  his  quotations  from  the  Jewish  Christian 
Gospels.  One  reason  for  this  contention  was  the  character  of  the 
verbal  deviations  in  these  quotations  from  the  text  of  the  Gospels. 
This  argument  is  destitute  of  force. 

His  quotations  are  not  more  inexact  than  those  of  other  Fathers 
which  are  known  to  be  derived  from  the  canonical  Gospels.  In  one  of 
the  most  striking  instances  of  inexact  quotation  (Matt.  x.  27 ;  cf.  Luke 
x.  22)  the  same  variations  from  the  canonical  text  are  found  in  Clement 
of  Alexandria,  Origen,  and  Irenasus.5  In  repeated  instances,  Justin 
attributes  passages  to  one  prophet  which  belong  to  another.6  He 
quotes  the  Old  Testament  and  heathen  writers  with  the  same  sort  of 
freedom.  Where  Justin  varies  from  the  Septuagint,  he  often  varies  in 
different  places  in  the  same  manner.  Hence  uniformity  of  variation 
does  not  in  the  least  warrant  the  inference  of  the  use  of  other  books 
than  the  Gospels.  The  main  argument  which  is  relied  on  to  prove  the 
non-canonical  source  of  Justin’s  quotations  is  the  alleged  identity  of 
some  of  them  which  deviate  from  the  canonical  text  with  quotations 
in  the  Clementine  Homilies,  which  are  assumed  to  be  from  a  Hebrew 
gospel.  The  answer  to  this  is  conclusive.  The  author  of  the  Homilies 
presents  at  least  one  passage  which  is  undeniably  from  John.  Of  the 
five  quotations  on  which  the  argument  for  identity  of  origin  rests,  it  has 

1  iii.  17.  2  Chronologie ,  I.  474. 

3  Theol.  Lit.  Zeitung,  18  (1893),  No.  2,  p.  34. 

4  Inspiration ,  pp.  310,  313.  5  See  Semisch,  p.  367. 

6  E.g.  Apol. ,  i.  53,  where  a  passage  in  Isaiah  is  credited  to  Jeremiah. 


220  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


been  demonstrated  that  there  is  no  such  resemblance  as  the  argument 
assumes  to  exist.1  What  can  be  the  worth  of  reasoning  which,  were  it 
valid,  would  compel  us  to  hold  that  Jeremy  Taylor  drew  his  knowledge 
of  the  teachings  and  acts  of  Christ,  not  from  the  Gospels  of  the  canon, 
but  from  a  lost  Ebionic  document?  Certain  passages  of  Scripture  are  not 
unfrequently  misquoted  in  the  same  way,  owing  to  causes  which  in  each 
case  are  readily  explained.  There  are,  so  to  speak,  stereotyped  errors 
of  quotation.  Another  occasion  of  greater  or  less  uniformity  in  verbal 
deviations  from  the  text  as  we  have  it  is  the  diversity  of  manuscripts. 
Attention  to  the  ordinary  operations  of  memory,  and  more  familiarity 
with  textual  criticism,  would  have  kept  out  untenable  theories  of  the 
kind  just  reviewed. 

Justin  was  a  native  of  Palestine.  He  may  have  had  some  knowledge 
of  the  Gospel  of  the  Hebrews,  as  other  Fathers  had.  He  may  have 
read  in  it  that  Jesus  made  ploughs  and  yokes,  and  that  a  fire  was 
kindled  in  the  Jordan  at  his  baptism,  although  this  last  tradition  is 
differently  given  in  that  Gospel.2  There  is  no  proof,  however,  that  he 
picked  up  these  circumstances  from  any  written  source.  They  were 
probably  afloat  in  oral  tradition  before  they  found  their  way  into  books. 
But  there  is  decisive  proof  that  the  Gospel  of  the  Hebrews  was  not  one 
of  the  Memoirs  which  were  his  authoritative  sources.  That  was  a 
gospel  of  Judaic  sectaries,  and  Justin  was  not  an  Ebionite.  There  is 
not  a  shadow  of  reason  to  suppose  that  the  Gospel  of  the  Hebrews  was 
ever  read  in  the  churches  which  he  must  have  had  most  prominently 
in  mind.  It  is  only  necessary  to  observe  how  he  describes  th e  Afemoirs, 
to  be  convinced  that  the  Gospels  of  the  canon  are  meant.  He  speaks 
of  them  as  composed  by  “  the  apostles  and  their  companions,”  and  this 
he  does  in  connection  with  a  quotation  which  is  found  in  Luke.3  This 
accounts  for  his  adding  the  term  “  companions  ”  to  his  usual  designa¬ 
tion  of  these  documents.  This  is  the  same  mode  of  describing  the 
Gospels  which  wre  find  in  Tertullian  and  in  other  later  writers.4  In  one 
place,  in  the  dialogue  with  Trypho,  he  calls  them  collectively  “the 
Gospel,”  —  a  term  applied  to  the  contents  of  the  four,  taken  together, 
by  Irenseus  and  Tertullian  in  the  same  century.  He  says,  however, 

1  See  Professor  Ezra  Abbot,  Critical  Essays ,  “  Authorship  of  the  Fourth 
Gospel,”  p.  103.  Professor  Abbot’s  exhaustive  investigation  has  settled  the 
question  of  the  derivation  of  the  passage  in  Justin  on  regeneration  ( Apol ., 
i.  61)  from  John  iii.  3-5.  Cf.,  on  Justin  and  the  Clementines,  Westcott, 
Hist,  of  the  Canon ,  p.  129  seq.,  and  note  D,  p.  155;  Dr.  E.  A.  Abbot,  Encycl. 
Britt.,  vol.  x.  p.  818.  Hilgenfeld  was  convinced  by  Professor  E.  Abbot’s 
essay  that  John  was  one  of  Justin’s  Gospels. 

2  See  Nicholson,  The  Gospel  of  the  Hebrews ,  etc.,  p.  40.  The  statement  is 
found,  for  substance,  in  two  ancient  Latin  Mss.,  and  is  perhaps  alluded  to 
by  Juvencus,  a  Christian  writer  of  the  fourth  century. 

3  Dial.,  c.  103.  4  See  Tertullian,  Adv.  Marc.,  iv.  2. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


221 


expressly  that  they  are  called  “Gospels.”1  Apart  from  this  explicit 
statement,  it  is  preposterous  to  imagine  that  Justin  can  have  one  docu¬ 
ment  only  in  mind  in  his  references  to  the  Memoirs.  Was  that  docu¬ 
ment  the  joint  production  of  the  “apostles  and  their  companions”  ? 
This  would  be  a  case  of  multiple  authorship  without  a  parallel  in  litera¬ 
ture.  We  should  have  to  hold  that  a  gospel  comprising  in  itself  the 
contents  of  the  four  of  the  canon  was  read,  in  the  middle  of  the  second 
century,  in  the  churches  “  in  city  and  country,”  and  was  then,  within  a 
score  of  years,  silently  superseded  by  four  Gospels  of  unknown  author¬ 
ship,  among  which  its  contents  were  distributed.  The  ancient  docu¬ 
ment  of  established  authority  vanished  as  if  by  magic  at  the  advent  of 
these  newcomers,  among  whom  it  was  somehow  partitioned  !  And 
this  miraculous  exchange,  which  took  place  when  Irenaeus  was  not  far 
from  thirty  years  old,  occurred  without  his  knowledge  !  Such  an 
hypothesis  is  too  heavy  a  tax  on  credulity.  Scholars  of  all  types  of 
opinion  are  now  disposed  to  accept  the  conclusion,  which  should  never 
have  been  disputed,  that  Justin  used  all  the  Gospels  of  the  canon;  and 
it  is  safe  to  predict  that  there  will  be  a  like  unanimity  in  the  conviction 
that  it  is  these  alone  which  he  designates  as  Memoirs  by  the  Apostles 
and  their  Companions.  “The  manner,”  says  Norton,  “in  which  Justin 
speaks  of  the  character  and  authority  of  the  books  to  which  he  appeals, 
proves  these  books  to  have  been  the  Gospels.  They  carried  with  them 
the  authority  of  the  apostles.  They  were  those  writings  from  which  he 
and  other  Christians  derived  their  knowledge  of  the  history  and  doc¬ 
trines  of  Christ.  They  were  relied  upon  by  him  as  primary  and  decisive 
evidence  in  his  explanations  of  the  character  of  Christianity.  They 
were  regarded  as  sacred  books.  They  were  read  in  the  assemblies  of 
Christians  on  the  Lord’s  Day,  in  connection  with  the  prophets  of  the 
Old  Testament.  Let  us  now  consider  the  manner  in  which  the  Gospels 
were  regarded  by  the  contemporaries  of  Justin.  Irenaeus  was  in  the 
vigor  of  life  before  Justin’s  death  ;  and  the  same  was  true  of  many 
thousands  of  Christians  living  when  Irenaeus  wrote.  But  he  tells  us 
that  the  four  Gospels  are  the  four  pillars  of  the  church,  the  foundation 
of  Christian  faith,  written  by  those  who  had  first  orally  preached  the 
gospel,  by  two  apostles  and  two  companions  of  apostles.  It  is  incred¬ 
ible  that  Irenaeus  and  Justin  should  have  spoken  of  different  books.” 
When  “we  find  Irenaeus,  the  contemporary  of  Justin,  ascribing  the  same 
character,  the  same  authority,  and  the  same  authors  as  are  ascribed  by 
Justin  to  the  Memoirs  quoted  by  him,  which  were  called  Gospels,  there 
can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  the  Memoirs  of  Justin  were  the  Gos¬ 
pels  of  Irenaeus.”  2 

The  proposition  that  Justin’s  Memoirs  were  the  four  Gospels 
is  corroborated,  if  it  stood  in  need  of  further  support,  by  the  fact 
1  Apol .,  i.  66.  2  Genuin  eness  of  the  Gospels,  pp.  237,  239. 


222  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


that  Tatian,  who  had  been  his  hearer,  and  speaks  of  him  with 
admiration,1  wrote  a  Harmony  of  the  Four  Gospels,  Tabari  is 
intermediate  between  Justin  and  Irenaeus.  He  was  born  early  in 
the  second  century  and  flourished  as  an  author  between  a.d.  155 
and  170.  In  his  extant  Address  to  the  Greeks  are  passages  evi¬ 
dently  drawn  from  John’s  Gospel.2  Eusebius  says  that,  “  having 
formed  a  certain  combination  and  bringing-together  of  Gospels, 
—  I  know  not  how,  —  he  has  given  this  the  title  Diatesseron 
that  is,  the  gospel  by  the  four,”  etc.  The  expression  “  I  know 
not  how  ”  implies,  not  that  Eusebius  had  not  seen  the  book,  but 
that  the  plan  seemed  strange  to  him.3  It  was  not  a  harmony  in 
the  modern  sense,  but  an  amalgamation  of  passages  from  the 
Evangelists.  At  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century  (Theodoret  Tells 
us  that  he  had  found  two  hundred  copies  of  the  work  in  circula¬ 
tion,  and  had  taken  them  away,  substituting  for  them  the  four 
Gospelp,  A  Syrian  writer,  Bar  Salibi,  in  the  twelfth  century,  had 
seen  tl£p  work ;  he  distinguishes  it  from  another  Harmony  by 
Ammonius,  and  he  testifies  that  it  began  with  the  words,  “  In  the 
beginning  was  the  Word.”  A  commentary  on  this  Diatesseron , 
Bar  Salibi  states,  had  been  made  in  the  fourth  century  by 
Ephraem  Syrus.  Up  to  a  recent  day,  the  character  of  the  Diates¬ 
seron  as  a  combination  of  the  Four  was  persistently  denied  by  the 
critics  of  the  school  of  Baur.  This  criticism  has  been  brought  to 
an  end  not  only  by  the  discovery  of  two  distinct  Armenian  ver¬ 
sions  of  the  Commentary  of  Ephraem,  but  also  by  the  discovery 
of  two  copies  of  the  Arabic  version  of  the  Diatesseron  itself.4  The 
composition  of  such  a  work,  in  which  the  four  Gospels  were 
partly  compounded  into  one  narrative,  is  an  independent  proof  of 
the  recognition  which  they  enjoyed,  and  is  an  additional  proof 
that  the  same  Gospels  constituted  the  Memoirs  of  Justin. 

There  were  a  few  writings,  not  included  in  the  canon,  which  were 
sometimes  read  in  the  early  churches  for  purposes  of  edification; 
and  some  of  these  were  held  by  some  of  the  Fathers  to  have  a 
certain  claim  to  inspiration.  In  this  list  are  embraced  the  Epistle 
ascribed  to  Barnabas,  the  Epistle  of  Clement  of  Rome,  and  the 
Shepherd  of  Hernias.  A  book  of  much  less  note,  an  Epistle  of 


1  H.  E.,  iv.  29  ;  Tatian,  Orat.  ad.  Grcecos,  c.  18.  2  cc.  4,  5,  13,  19. 

3  See  Lightfoot,  Essays  on  Supernatural  Religion ,  p.  278. 

4  See  Zahn’s  Tatian' s  Diatesseron  (1881).  Harnack  assigns  it  to  172,  “if 
not  to  160-170.”  Chronologies  I.,  p.  722. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


223 


Soter,  Bishop  of  Rome,  is  also  said  to  have  been  sometimes  read 
in  churches ;  and  there  are  some  traces  of  a  similar  use  of  an 
Apocalypse  of  Peter,  which  Eusebius  and  Jerome  brand  as  apocry¬ 
phal.  Not  one  of  these  books  was  a  narrative.  None  of  them 
ever  had  anything  like  the  standing  of  the  documents  which  re¬ 
corded  the  facts  in  the  public  ministry  of  Christ,  on  which  the 
very  life  of  the  Church  depended.  They  were  read  in  some  of  the 
churches  for  a  time;  but  even  Fathers  who  regard  them  with 
honor,  as  is  seen  in  the  example  of  Clement  of  Alexandria,  do  not 
hesitate  to  criticise  their  teaching.1  The  Memoirs  of  Justin  were 
narratives,  placed  by  all  the  churches  on  a  level  with  the  prophets 
of  the  Old  Testament.2  The  gradual  separation  of  the  didactic 
writings  whose  titles  have  been  given  from  the  books  of  the  canon 
does  not  in  the  least  help  us  to  comprehend  how  the  documents 
referred  to  by  Justin  could  have  been  expelled  from  the  churches 
and  perished  out  of  sight. 

It  is  sometimes  imagined,  if  not  asserted,  that  apocryphal  Gos¬ 
pels  were  widely  used  in  the  churches  of  the  second  century,  and 
enjoyed  the  esteem  accorded  to  the  four  of  the  canon.  This  is  a 
groundless  impression.3  The  apocryphal  Gospels  which  are  now 

1  Clement  {Peed.,  ii.  10,  ed.  Potter,  p.  220)  dissents  from  a  statement  of 
Barnabas  (c.  x.).  Origen  more  definitely  separates  these  writings  from  those 
which  are  authoritative.  Yet  at  Alexandria  there  was  a  stronger  tendency  to 
accept  writings  of  this  class  than  existed  elsewhere  in  the  Church. 

2  Apol. ,  i.  67. 

3  A  concise,  instructive  account  of  the  New  Testament  apocryphal  literature 
is  given  by  H.  J.  Holtzmann,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  ed.  3  (1892).  He  correctly 
characterizes  them  as  “  documents,  almost  all  of  which  are  distinguished 
from  the  canonical  writings  of  the  New  Testament  by  the  venturesomeness 
and  tastelessness  ( Abentheuerlichkeil  und  G  esdimacklosigkeit )  of  their  contents, 
in  great  part  also  by  their  display  of  gnostic,  sometimes,  also,  Jewish- 
Christian,  or  otherwise  heretical  color.”  Of  the  apocryphal  Gospels,  Holtz¬ 
mann  says:  “Not  even  the  gospel  of  the  Hebrews  and  the  gospel  of  Marcion 
in  age  go  back  of  the  canonical  Gospels.  Only  by  misunderstanding  could  the 
first  be  made  the  basis  of  Matthew,  the  second  the  basis  of  Luke.  Much 
more  is  what  we  have  said  true  of  the  writings  still  extant.  As  later  products 
of  pious  fantasy  by  which  merely  the  gaps  in  the  Reports  given  by  the  Evan¬ 
gelists  might  be  filled  out,  since  they  only  include  sections  of  the  evangelical 
history,  there  was  never  any  danger  of  their  being  put  by  the  side  of  the  four 
Gospels”  (pp.  486,  487).  The  whole  subject  is  thoroughly  handled  in  the 
elaborate  discussion  by  Zahn,  Geschichte  d.  N.  T.  Kanons,  vol.  ii.,  pp.  621-797. 
R.  Hofmann’s  article,  in  Ilauck,  Realencycl.  fur.  Prot.  Theol.  u.  Kir che ,  vol.  i., 
is  condensed  and  quite  valuable. 


224  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


extant,  relating  to  the  nativity  and  childhood  of  Jesus,  and  to  the 
Virgin  Mary,  never  pretended  to  be  anything  more  than  supple¬ 
ments  to  the  received  Gospels.  They  are  of  a  much  later_date 
than  the  age  of  Justin.  It  has  been  thought  that  two  or  three  of 
them  existed  in  an  earlier,  rudimental  form  at  that  day.1  Such 
was  the  opinion  of  Tischendorf.  But  even  this  is  doubtful.  The 
Gospel  of  the  Hebrews  (not  the  Hebrew  St.  Matthew),  in  its  various 
redactions,  had  a  wide  acceptance  among  the  different  Jewish 
sects.  But,  this  Gospel  and  Marcion’s  mutilated  Luke  excepted, 
there  were  no  uncanonical  gospel  narratives  which  we  have  reason 
to  think  had  any  extensive  circulation  among  professed  Christians. 
There  were  no  rivals  of  the  Memoirs  to  which  Justin  referred. 
Numerous  books  were  fabricated  among  heretical  parties ;  but, 
though  they  might  bear  the  name  of  “  Gospels,”  they  were  gen¬ 
erally  of  a  didactic  nature.  This  is  the  case  with  The  Gospel  of 
theJTruth ,  which  Irenaeus  and  Tertullian  inform  us  had  been 
composed  by  the  Valentinians.  It  is  a  powerful  argument  for  the 
genuineness  of  the  canonical  Gospels,  that  the  Gnostics  are  con¬ 
stantly  charged  with  bolstering  up  their  doctrines  by  perverse 
interpretation  of  the  Gospels,  but  are  not  accused  of  bringing 

1  It  may  be  well  to  state  what  apocryphal  Gospels  present  a  plausible  claim 
to  great  antiquity. 

The  Protevangelium  of  James  treats  of  the  nativity  of  Mary.  Origen  re¬ 
fers  to  it  by  name  (in  Matt.,  tom.  x.  17,  ed.  Migne,  vol.  iii.  p.  875);  but  it 
could  not  be  the  existing  book  that  he  used,  as  is  shown  by  Professor  Lipsius, 
Did.  of  Christ.  Biogr.,  ii.  702.  Clement  of  Alexandria  (Strom.,  vii. )  is 
thought  to  have  referred  to  it.  There  is  no  proof  that  Justin  (in  Dial.,  c.  78) 
borrowed  from  it.  Says  Professor  Lipsius,  “  There  is,  indeed,  no  clear  war¬ 
rant  for  the  existence  of  our  present  text  of  the  Protevangelium  prior  to  the 
time  of  Peter  of  Alexandria  (31 1).”  Gnostic  and  Ebionitic  features  are 
mingled  in  it. 

The  Ada  Pilati  forms  the  first  part  of  the  Gospel  of  Nicodemus.  Justin 
(Apol.,  i.  28,  36)  refers  to  the  Acts  of  Pilate,  as  does  Tertullian  (Apol.,  21; 
cf.  5).  Both  have  in  mind,  probably,  not  any  book,  but  an  official  report, 
which  they  assume  to  exist  in  the  public  archives  at  Rome.  Eusebius  (H.  E., 
ii.  2)  refers  to  a  blasphemous  pagan  forgery  under  this  same  title,  which  was 
of  recent  origin.  The  first  trace  of  the  present  Acts  of  Pilate  is  in  Epiphanius 
(a.d.  376),  Hcer.,  50,  1. 

A  Gospel  of  St.  Thomas  is  referred  to  by  Origen  (Horn,  in  Luc.,  i.).  It 
was  used  by  the  Gnostic  sects  of  Marcosians  and  Naassenes  (Hippol.,  Ref. 
Omn.  Llcer.,  v.  2  ;  cf.  Irenaeus,  Adv.  Hcer.,  i.  20,  1).  Portions  of  this  book  may 
exist  in  the  extant  Gospel  of  the  same  name.  It  relates  to  the  boyhood  of 
Christ. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


225 


forward  narratives  of  their  own  at  variance  with  them.  On  this 
subject  Professor  Norton  remarks  :  — 

“Irenaeus  and  Tertullian  were  the  two  principal  writers  against  the 
Gnostics  ;  and  from  their  works  it  does  not  appear  that  the  Valentinians, 
the  Marcionites,  or  any  other  Gnostic  sect,  adduced,  in  support  of  their 
opinions,  a  single  narrative  relating  to  the  public  ministry  of  Christ, 
besides  what  is  found  in  the  Gospels.  It  does  not  appear  that  they 
ascribed  to  him  a  single  sentence  of  any  imaginable  importance  which 
the  Evangelists  have  not  transmitted.  It  does  not  appear  that  any  sect 
appealed  to  the  authority  of  any  history  of  his  public  ministry  besides 
the  Gospels,  except  so  far  as  the  Marcionites,  in  their  use  of  an  imper¬ 
fect  copy  of  St.  Luke’s  Gospel,  may  be  regarded  as  forming  a  verbal 
exception  to  this  remark.”1 

With  the  exception  of  the  Valentinian  Gospel  of  Truth ,  the 
reference  to  which  is  contained  in  a  disputed  passage  of  Tertullian, 
it  is  true,  as  Professor  Norton  states,  that  this  Father  “  nowhere 
speaks  of  any  apocryphal  Gospel,  or  intimates  a  knowledge  of  the 
existence  of  such  a  book.”2  In  all  the  writers  of  the  first  three 
centuries,  there  are  not  more  quotations  professedly  derived  from 
apocryphal  books  called  by  them  Gospels  than  can  be  counted  on 
the  fingers  of  one  hand.3  These  citations  in  the  Fathers,  however, 
involve  no  sanction  of  the  books  from  which  they  are  taken.  Clem¬ 
ent  of  Alexandria  quotes  the  Gospel  of  the  Egyptians,  but  he  quotes 
it  to  condemn  it.  If  in  the  second  century,  as  well  as  later,  the 
Gospels  of  the  canon  were  not  the  authorities  from  which  the 

1  Genuineness  of  the  Gospels,  iii.  222. 

2  Ibid.,  iii.  227.  Tertullian  expressly  states  that  Valentinus  used  all  the  four 
Gospels  ( De  Prcescript.  Hcer.,  c.38).  On  the  same  sense  of  videtur  in  the 
passages,  see  Professor  E.  Abbot,  Critical  Essays,  p.  84. 

3  Origen  once  quotes  a  statement  from  the  Gospel  of  Peter  {Comment,  in 
Matt.,  tom.  x.  462,  463).  Clement  of  Alexandria  twice  refers  to  statements  in 
the  Gospel  of  the  Egyptians  {Strom.,  iii.  9,  13).  In  the  so-called  II.  Ep.  of 
Clement  of  Rome  are  several  passages  thought  to  be  from  this  Gospel,  but  the 
source  is  not  named.  See  Lightfoot’s  Clement,  pp.  192,  193,  297  seq.,  31 1. 
Clement  of  Alexandria  thrice  {Strom.,  ii.  9,  iii.  4,  vii.  13)  cites  passages  from 
The  Traditions,  which  was  not  improbably  another  name  of  the  Gospel  of 
Matthias. 

Of  these  authors  Pseudo-Clement  is  the  only  one  who  seems  to  attribute 
authority  to  the  book  to  which  he  refers.  The  Gospel  of  the  Egyptians  was 
used  by  an  ascetic  sect,  the  Encratites  (Clem.  Alex.,  iii.  9).  The  Encratite 
tendencies  of  the  Homily  of  Pseudo-Clement  are  noticed  by  Bishop  Lightfoot, 

Clement  of  Rome ,  Appendix ,  p.  31 1. 

Q 


226  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


Church  derived  its  knowledge  of  the  life  and  teachings  of  Jesus, 
there  is  no  known  source  whence  that  knowledge  could  have  been 
obtained. 

Celsus,  the  most  distinguished  literary  opponent  of  Christianity 
in  the  second  century,  may  be  joined  with  the  Gnostics  as  an  in¬ 
direct  witness  for  the  Gospels  of  the  canon.  He  wrote,  some  have 
thought,  as  early  as  Marcus  Antoninus  (a.d.  138-161).  Keim 
thinks  that  he  composed  his  book  under  Marcus  Aurelius,  in  a.d. 
178.1  He  had  the  Christian  literature  before  him.  He  showed 
no  lack  of  industry  in  searching  out  whatever  could  be  made  to 
tell  against  the  Christian  cause.  As  in  the  case  of  Justin,  the 
gospel  history  can  be  constructed  out  of  the  passages  cited  from 
Celsus  by  Origen.2  But  there  is  not  an  incident  or  a  saying 
‘which  professes  to  be  taken  from  Christian  authorities  that  is  not 
found  in  the  canonical  Gospels.3  With  all  of  these,  as  Keim  al¬ 
lows,4  he  shows  himsddf  acquainted.  Had  there  been  apocryphal 
Gospels  which  had  attained  to  a  wide  credence  or  circulation  in 
the  Church,  even  at  a  date  thirty  or  forty  years  previous  to  the 
time  when  he  wrote,  this  astute  controversialist  would  have  known 
something  of  them,  and  would  have  been  likely  to  avail  himself  of 
the  welcome  aid  to  be  derived  from  their  inventions. 

Passing  by  other  proofs,  we  proceed  to  consider  one  testimony 
to  the  Gospels  which  carries  us  back  company  of  imme¬ 

diate  followers  of  Christ.  It  is  that  of  Papias,  Bishop  of  Hierapo- 
lis.  He  is  spoken  of  by  Irenaeus  as  “  a  man  of  the  old  time.”5 
He  was  a  contemporary  of  Polycarp,6  who  was  born  a.d.  69,  and 
died  a.d.  155.  He  had  also  known  the  daughters  of  Philip, — 
either  the  apostle,  or  (possibly)  the  evangelist.7  He  is  said  by 
Irenaeus  to  have  been  a  disciple  of  John  the  apostle ;  but  a 

1Keim,  Celsus ’  Wahres  Wort ,  p.  273.  Zahn  fixes  the  date  at  about  A.d. 
170  ( Einl .  in  d.  N.  7’.,  II.  290);  Harnack  at  a.d.  176-180  ( Chronologic , 

I-  173)- 

2  See  the  summaries  of  the  work  of  Celsus,  by  Doddridge  and  Leland,  in 
Lardner’s  Credibility ,  etc.,  ii.  27  seq .,  and  the  work  of  Keim,  as  above. 

3  Origen  (. Adv .  Cel.,  ii.  74)  says,  “Now  we  have  proved  that  many  foolish 
assertions,  opposed  to  the  narratives  of  our  Gospels,  occur  in  the  statements  of 
the  Jew  ”  [in  Celsus],  etc.  But  these  “  foolish  assertions,”  as  an  inspection  of 
the  previous  portion  of  Origen’swork  demonstrates,  are  comments  on  the  gos¬ 
pel  history,  not  pretending  to  come  from  any  Gospels. 

4  p.  230.  6  Irenceus,  1.  c. 

6  Adv.  Hcer.,  v.  33,  4.  7  Eusebius,  H.E.,  iii.  39. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


227 


doubt  is  cast  on  the  correctness  of  this  statement  by  Eusebius.1 
Be  this  as  it  may,  this  is  certain,  that  he  knew  Aristion,  and  one 
whom  he  designates  “  the  Presbyter  [or  Elder]  John,”  —  whom  he 
calls  “disciples  of  Jesus.”  2  These  may  have  formed  a  part  of  a 
company  of  apostles  and  their  followers  who  left  Palestine  for 
Asia  Minor  about  a.d.  67,  on  the  outbreak  of  the  Jewish  war.  In 
the  passages  which  Eusebius  has  preserved  from  Papias,  he  speaks 
only  of  the  two  Evangelists,  Mark  and  Matthew.  The  silence  of 
Eusebius,  however,  as  to  any  mention  of  the  third  and  fourth  Gos¬ 
pels  by  Papias,  has  been  demonstrated  not  to  imply,  in  the  least, 
that  these  Gospels  were  not  referred  to  and  used  by  him.3  The 
avowed  purpose  of  Eusebius  in  these  notices,  and  his  practice  in 
other  similar  cases,  would  not  lead  us  to  expect  any  allusion  to 
what  Papias  might  say  of  the  other  Gospels,  unless  it  were  some¬ 
thing  new,  or  of  special  interest.  Now,  Papias  was  informed  by 
“the  Elder  ”  John,  that  Mark  was  the  “interpreter”  of  Peter,4 
and  wrote  down  accurately  what  he  heard  Peter  relate  of  the  say¬ 
ings  and  doings  of  Jesus.  The  same  statement  respecting  the 
relation  of  Mark  to  Peter,  and  the  origin  of  the  second  Gospel,  is 
made  by  Clement  of  Alexandria,5  Irenseus,6  and  Tertullian.7  It 
was  the  undisputed  belief  of  the  ancient  Church.  It  is  borne  out 
by  the  internal  traits  of  Mark’s  Gospel.8  It  has  been  maintained 
by  some  that  a  primitive  Mark,  of  which  the  Gospel  of  the  canon 
is  an  expansion,  is  the  work  referred  to.  On  what  is  this  theory 
founded?  First,  on  the  statement  in  Papias,  that  Mark,  though 
he  omitted  nothing  that  he  heard,  but  reported  it  accurately,  was 
precluded  from  recording  “  in  order  ”  (ei/  rd£ a)  the  matter  thus 
derived  from  the  oral  addresses  of  Peter.  But  this  remark  may  be 
founded  on  a  comparison  of  Mark  with  Matthew,  where  the  say¬ 
ings  of  Christ  are  often  differently  disposed;  or,  perhaps,  with 
Luke,  who  specially  aimed  at  an  orderly  arrangement ;  or,  possi¬ 
bly,  as  Lightfoot  thinks,  with  John,  where  the  sequence  of  events 

1  Eusebius,  1.  c.  2  Ibid. 

3  See  Lightfoot,  Essays  on  Supernattiral  Religion ,  p.  182. 

4  The  meaning  is  not  that  Mark  translated  Peter’s  Aramaic  into  Greek 
(or  Latin),  but  did  the  work  of  an  intermediary,  conveying  to  his  readers 
what  he  had  heard  from  Peter.  See  Meyer,  Ev.  Markus  (ed.  Weiss),  p.  2; 
and  Zahn,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  218  seq. 

5  Eusebius,  H.  E.,  ii.  15.  6  Irenaeus,  Adv.  Hcer .,  iii.  10,  6. 

7  Adv.  Marc.,  iv.  5. 

8  See  B.  Weiss,  Marcusevangelium ,  Einl.,  p.  2. 


228  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


is  more  carefully  preserved.1  But  it  may  be  nothing  more  than  a 
subjective  impression  of  Papias  or  of  his  informant.  It  would 
seem  improbable  that  any  other  Mark  could  have  existed  in  the 
time  of  Papias  and  Polycarp,  and  have  been  silently  superseded 
by  the  Gospel  of  the  canon,  without  any  knowledge  of  the  fact 
reaching  Irenaeus  and  his  contemporaries.  The  second  reason 
given  for  the  conjecture  respecting  an  earlier  Gospel  of  Mark  is 
founded  on  a  certain  hypothesis  as  to  the  relation  of  the  synoptical 
Gospels  to  one  another,  and  to  the  authorship  of  the  first  of  them. 
The  hypothesis  is  that  Matthew’s  authorship  extended  only  to  the 
compilation  of  the  discourses  of  Jesus,  and  that  the  narrative  por¬ 
tion  of  his  Gospel  is  from  another  hand.  Papias  states  that 
“  Matthew  wrote  the  oracles  (to.  Ao'ynx)  in  the  Flebrew  tongue,  and 
every  one  interpreted  them  as  he  could.”  It  is  in  another  place 
that  Papias,  whether  following  the  same  or  a  different  authority, 
says  of  the  Evangelist  Mark,  that,  in  setting  down  what  he  had 
heard  from  Peter,  he  wrote  accurately  whatever  he  remembered, 
but  did  not  record  in  order  what  was  either  said  or  done  by 
Christ,  and  that  he  did  not  design  to  give  a  connected  account 
of  the  Lord’s  “  Logia  ”  (AoyiW  or  Ao'ycov).2  Since  Schleiermacher, 
the  theory  has  been  widely  accepted  by  the  German  critics  that 
under  the  term  Logia  Papias  means  exclusively  teachings  of  Jesus. 
The  first  Gospel  in  its  present  form  is  conceived  to  be  dependent 
on  the  second  for  its  narrative  matter ;  yet  the  reverse  is  supposed 
to  be  true  respecting  certain  passages  in  the  two  Gospels.  Hence 
the  inference  concerning  these  passages  in  Mark  that  they  are 
of  a  later  date  than  the  body  of  its  contents.  But,  in  the  first 
place,  as  Lightfoot  has  shown,  it  is  quite  possible  that  Papias  by 
Logia  designates  the  entire  Gospel  in  its  present  form.3  Secondly, 
it  is  quite  possible,  as  Hilgenfeld  has  thought,  and  as  Zahn  main¬ 
tains,  that  Papias  speaks  only  of  sayings  of  Christ  in  Matthew, 
because  it  was  with  these  that  he  was  specially  concerned  in  his 
own  book,  the  Exposition .4  If  Papias  regarded  the  canonical 
Gospel  as  only  in  part  the  work  of  Matthew,  would  he  not  have 

1  Essays  on  Supernatural  Religion ,  pp.  165,  205.  “  Per  ordinem  profitetur,” 
says  the  Muratorian  Fragment,  after  referring  to  Mark  in  terms  like  those  used 
by  Papias. 

2  Eusebius,  H.  E.,  iii.  39.  3  Essays  on  Sup.  Relig.,  p.  173  seq. 

4  Hilgenfeld,  Einl. ,  pp.  54  seq.,  456  seq.  (Lightfoot,  ibid.,  p.  172);  Zahn, 

Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  II. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


229 


stated  who  was  the  second  author?  thirdly,  as  Weiss  and  others 
think7  if  Logia  in  Papias  means  “  discourses,”  the  first  Gospel 
may,  and  indeed  must,  have  included,  as  a  subordinate  element, 
narrative  memoranda  connected  with  them.1  The  language  of 
Papias  distinctly  implies  that  it  was  no  longer  necessary  to  trans¬ 
late  the  Aramaic  Matthew  into  Greek.  His  use  of  the  aorist 
implies  that  that  necessity  had  passed  by.  Zahn  is  justified  in 
declaring  that  if  critics  must  assume  a  lost  primitive  Matthew, 
made  up  of  discourses  of  Jesus,  they  must  rest  the  case  on  internal 
grounds,  instead  of  building  it  on  the  testimony  of  Papias.2  If  our 
present  Matthew  is  the  primitive  document  amplified,  still  the 
later  author  stands,  as  regards  authority  and  credibility,  on  a  level 
with  the  second  and  third  Evangelists.  The  date  of  the  completed 
Gospel  is  proved  by  internal  evidence  to  coincide  very  nearly  with 
that  of  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  (a.d.  70)  .3 

Although  the  statements  cited  by  Eusebius  from  Papias  relate 
not  to  Luke,  but  to  Mark  and  Matthew,  it  happens  that  there  is 
nearly  contemporary  evidence  of  striking  value  respecting  the  ex¬ 
istence  and  authority  of  the  third  Gospel.  Marcion  came  from 
Asia  Minor  to  Rome  about  a.d.  140.4  His  heresy  involved  a  re¬ 
jection  of  the  apostles,  with  the  exception  of  Paul,  for  the  reason 
that  he  deemed  them  tainted  with  Judaic  error.  The  Fathers  who 
oppose  Marcion  describe  him  as  having  rejected  the  Gospels,  with 
the  exception  of  Luke.  He  did  not  deny  that  the  other  Gospels 
were  genuine  productions  of  their  reputed  authors  (there  is  no 
hint  that  he  did)  ;  but  he  selected  Luke  as  his  authority,  he  having 

1  Weiss,  Matthaus  evangel.,  Einl.,  p.  17  seq.,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  p.  465  seq. 

2  Gesch.  d.  N.  T.  Kanons ,  I.  ii.  s.  892. 

8  Weiss  sets  the  date  of  Mark  just  before  A.D.  70  (“in  das  Ende  d.  sech- 
ziger  Jahren”),  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  s.  496;  of  the  primitive  Matthew,  just  be¬ 
fore  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  {ibid.,  s.  514);  of  the  present  Matthew,  very 
soon  after;  of  Luke’s  Gospel,  not  later  than  A.D.  80  {ibid.,  s.  531).  Harnack 
assigns  to  Mark  the  date  a.d.  65-67,  to  Matthew,  A.d.  70-75  {Chronologie,  s. 
654).  Harnack  interprets  Papias  as  referring  to  earlier  written  Greek  recen¬ 
sions  of  a  (probably  Hebrew)  Matthew,  one  of  which  was  the  recognized 
Greek  edition  prior  to  Papias  (c.  a.d.  150,  ibid.,  693).  Llarnack  holds  to 
later  additions  to  the  primitive  Matthew.  The  composition  of  a  Hebrew 
Gospel  by  the  apostle  Matthew,  which  is  a  common  source  of  Matthew  and 
Luke,  Harnack  admits  to  be  possible,  but  not  assured.  He  rejects  the  theory 
of  a  mere  collection  of  discourses  (s.  694,  note).  He  assigns  a.d.  78-93  as 
the  date  of  the  Gospel  of  Luke  and  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  (s.  250,  s.  718). 

4  See  Justin,  Apol. ,  i.  26,  58. 


230  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


been  an  associate  of  Paul,  and  made  a  gospel  for  himself  by 
cutting  out  of  Luke’s  work  passages  which  he  considered  incon¬ 
gruous  with  his  doctrinal  theories.1  That  Marcion’s  gospel  was 
an  abridgment  of  our  Luke  is  now  conceded  on  all  hands.  Dr. 
Sanday  has  not  only  demonstrated  this  by  a  linguistic  argument, 
but  has  proved  by  a  comparison  of  texts  that  the  gospel  of  the 
canon  must  have  been  for  some  time  in  use,  and  have  attained  to 
a  considerable  circulation,  before  Marcion  applied  to  it  his  prun- 
ing-knife.2  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  he  took  for  his  pur¬ 
pose  a  gospel  of  established  authority  in  the  Church. 

But  we  have  the  unimpeachable  testimony  of  the  author  of  the 
third  Gospel  as  to  the  sources  of  his  knowledge.  In  the  prologue 
he  states  that  his  information  was  derived  from  the  immediate  dis¬ 
ciples  of  Christ.3  Unless  the  author  who  collected  and  preserved 
such  passages  of  the  Saviour’s  teaching  as  the  parables  of  the 
Prodigal  Son  and  the  Good  Samaritan,  and  as  the  story  of  the 
Pharisee  and  the  Publican,  lied,  his  informants  were  immediate 
followers  of  Jesus.  His  sources  were  in  part  writings  and  doubt¬ 
less  in  part  oral  communications.  Moreover,  the  book  of  Acts, 
undoubtedly  has  a  common  authorship  with  the  Gospel.  In  the 
Acts,  the  author  discloses  himself  in  an  artless  and  incidental  way, 
as  having  been  a  companion  of  the  apostle  Paul  in  a  part  of  his 
journeying.  That  this  author  was  Luke  is  attested  by  the  unvary¬ 
ing  tradition  of  antiquity.  No  other  explanation  of  the  passages 
in  which  the  writer  speaks  in  the  first  person  plural 4  is  satisfactory. 
That  as  practised  a  writer  as  the  author  of  these  two  books  un¬ 
deniably  was  introduced  quotations  from  another  so  carelessly  is 
quite  improbable.  For  a  later  writer  to  take  up  these  quotations, 
and,  still  more,  to  assimilate  them  to  his  own  style,  still  retaining 
the  “  we,”  would  be  a  flagrant  attempt  at  imposture.5  Had  a  later 
writer  wished  to  cozen  his  readers  into  a  belief  that  he  had  been 
an  attendant  of  Paul,  he  would  not  have  failed  to  make  his  preten¬ 
sion  more  prominent.  The  literary  discernment  of  Renan  on  a 
question  of  this  nature,  which  stands  apart  from  any  theological 

1  Tertullian,  De  Prescript.  Har.,  c.  38. 

2  The  Gospels  in  the  Second  Cenhiry ,  ch.  viii.  The  priority  of  Luke  to 
Marcion’s  gospel  is  admitted  in  the  seventh  edition  of  Supernatural  Religion. 

3  Luke  i.  2.  4  Acts  xvi.  10-19,  xx*  5— xxviii.  31. 

6  This  intention  was  attributed  to  the  author  by  leaders  of  the  Tubingen 

School,  as  it  is  in  the  Encyclopcedia  Biblica,  art.  “  Acts  of  the  Apostles.” 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


231 


idea,  is  not  to  be  lightly  esteemed.  “  The  author  of  this  gospel 
[Luke]  is  certainly  the  same  as  the  author  of  the  Acts  of  the 
Apostles.”  1  “  The  book  [of  Acts]  has  a  perfect  unity  of  composition 
{redaction),  and  it  is  this  which  decides  us  to  attribute  it  to  the 
personage  who  says  ‘  we  ’  (oy/xet?)  from  xvi.  4.  For  to  admit  that 
this  ‘  we  ’  comes  from  a  document  inserted  by  the  author  in  his 
narrative  is  in  the  highest  degree  ( souverainement )  improbable. 
The  examples  which  they  cite  of  such  a  negligence  pertain  to 
books  of  no  literary  worth,  well-nigh  undigested  ;  but  the  Acts  is  a 
book  composed  with  a  great  deal  of  skill  ( beaucoup  d'ari).  The 
favorite  expressions  where  the  ‘we’  occurs  are  the  same  as  those 
of  the  rest  of  the  Acts  and  of  the  third  Gospel.” 2  To  conclude, 
there  is  the  same  consensus  in  the  tradition  respecting  the  associa¬ 
tion  of  Luke  with  Paul  that  we  find  with  regard  to  the  connection 
of  Mark  with  Peter.3 

The  evidence,  the  most  important  points  of  which  have  been 
sketched  above,  establishes  the  essential  genuineness  of  the  first 
three  Gospels.  We  have,  however,  within  these  Gospels  them¬ 
selves,  indirect  proofs  of  their  early  date  of  a  convincing  char¬ 
acter.  The  most  important  of  these  internal  evidences  is  the 
form  of  the  eschatological  discourse  of  Jesus.  In  Matthew  espe¬ 
cially,  but  also  in  the  other  synoptical  Gospels,  the  second  advent 
of  Christ  is  set  in  close  connection  with  the  destruction  of  Jerusa¬ 
lem.4  Most  candid  scholars  at  present  prefer  the  hypothesis  that 
the  reports  of  the  Lord’s  Discourse  —  which,  it  must  be  remem¬ 
bered,  are  translations  of  it  into  Greek,  and  in  an  abridged  form 
—  are  colored  by  a  subjective  anticipation  of  the  disciples,  the 
result  of  their  own  thoughts  and  yearnings  with  regard  to  a  point 
left  indefinite  in  the  Lord’s  prophetic  teaching,  the  design  of  which 
was  to  afford  glimpses  of  grand  turning-points  in  the  development 
of  his  kingdom.  “If  Christ,”  says  Neander,  “  pointed  forward 
to  the  great  effective  forces  or  steps  involved  in  his  coming  in 
the  world’s  history,  his  victorious  self-revelation,  bringing  in  his 

1  Vie  de  Jesus ,  i6me  ed.,  p.  xlix.  The  author  of  both  works  is  “bien  reelle- 
ment  Luc,  disciple  de  Paul.”  Les  Apotres ,  p.  xviii. 

2  Les  Evangiles  (1877),  p.  436,  n.  2. 

3  Irenaeus,  Adv.  Hcer .,  iii.  1,  i;  Tertullian,  Adv.  Marc.,  iv.  2;  cf.  Ep.  to 
Philemon,  ver.  24;  Col.  iv.  14;  2  Tim.  iv.  II.  For  further  remarks  on  the 
relation  of  Luke  to  the  Gospel  and  the  Acts,  see  Appendix,  Note  12. 

4  Matt.  xxiv.  29,  34  ;  Mark  xiii.  19,  24,  30;  Luke  xxi.  32. 


232  THE  GROUNDS  OF  TIIEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


kingdom,  he  meant  thereby  in  part  his  triumph  in  the  fall  of  the 
previous  sensuous  form  of  the  theocracy,  and  in  the  more  free 
and  mighty  spread  of  this  kingdom,  to  be  secured  by  it,  and  in  part 
his  last  coming  for  the  consummation  of  his  kingdom.  He  had 
in  view  the  judgment  of  the  degenerate  theocracy,  and  that  final 
judgment,  —  the  one  being  the  first  more  free  and  mighty  develop¬ 
ment  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  the  other  its  final  consummation ; 
both  being  regarded  by  him  as  events  corresponding  one  to  the 
other, — just  as  in  general,  in  the  great  epochs  in  the  world’s 
history,  God  reveals  himself,  sitting  in  judgment  on  a  creation 
ripe  for  its  downfall,  and  calling  a  new  creation  into  being.  Of 
this  character  are  the  critical  and  creative  epochs  of  the  world’s 
history,  having  relation  one  to  another ;  while  collectively  they 
prefigure  that  epoch  when  the  judgment  is  completed,  and  with  it 
the  creation  of  the  divine  kingdom.  ...  It  is  easy  to  understand 
how  it  might  happen  that  in  apprehending  and  reproducing  such 
discourses  of  Jesus,  from  the  standpoint  of  the  hearers,  the  succes¬ 
sive  epochs  or  stages  which  Christ  exhibited  in  a  certain  corre¬ 
spondence  with  one  another,  and  which,  although  he  did  not 
designate  measures  of  time,  he  kept  more  apart,  should  become 
mingled  with  one  another.”  Weiss  is  constrained  to  concede 
such  a  dislocation  in  the  case  of  Matt.  xxiv.  35.  It  is  generally 
conceded,  that  in  the  Logia  of  Matthew  there  are  clear  examples 
of  a  grouping  together  of  utterances  of  Jesus  on  separate  occa¬ 
sions.  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  an  illustration.  That  the 
synoptical  reports  of  the  Prophetic  Discourse  should  exhibit 
traces  of  the  feeling,  spontaneous  in  its  origin,  that  the  Return  of 
Christ  was  to  be  soon,  is  a  plausible  supposition.  We  cannot  be 
sure,  from  anything  recorded  in  the  Gospels,  that  Jesus  spoke 
explicitly  of  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  as  a  “  coming  ”  on  his  part. 
But  this  term  was  used  by  him  not  always  in  reference  to  the 
same  event.  In  the  fourteenth  chapter  of  John,  in  the  third 
verse,  it  is  held  by  both  Meyer  and  Weiss  that  the  “  Coming  ”  of 
which  Jesus  speaks  is  the  Parousia,  while  in  the  eighteenth  verse, 
the  “  Coming  ”  of  which  mention  is  made  is  held  by  Meyer  to 
refer  to  the  mission  of  the  Comforter,  or  Paraclete,  —  by  Weiss,  to 
the  Resurrection ;  and  Weiss  concedes  that  in  the  twenty-third 
verse  the  “  Coming  ”  refers  to  the  spiritual  communion  into  which 
he  was  to  enter  with  the  disciples.  Here,  then,  in  a  single  chap¬ 
ter  of  John,  the  “Coming”  of  Jesus  is  applied  to  three  distinct 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


233 


manifestations  of  himself.  That  a  misconception  of  the  meaning 
of  Christ  on  the  subject  was  possible  on  the  part  of  disciples 
is  shown  by  an  example  in  John  xxi.  23.  That  Jesus  did  not 
foretell  his  advent  to  judgment  as  an  event  to  follow  immediately 
upon  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  is  shown  by  the  parable  of  the 
Marriage  Feast,  in  Matt,  xxii.,  and  by  the  parable  of  the  House¬ 
holder  (Matt.  xxi.  33-42),  unless  it  is  assumed  that  the  reports  of 
these  parables  are  here  given  in  a  later,  expanded  form.  The 
same  conclusion  is  distinctly  indicated  in  the  parables  of  the 
Mustard-seed  and  the  Leaven,  not  to  speak  of  other  teaching  of 
like  purport.  The  legislation  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  ap¬ 
pears  to  be  in  its  tone  inconsistent  with  the  idea  of  a  sudden  and 
speedy  advent  to  judgment.  Jesus  is  said  to  have  declared 
that  he  did  not  himself  know  when  it  would  occur.  “  But  of  that 
day  and  hour  knoweth  no  one,  not  even  the  angels  of  heaven, 
neither  the  Son,  but  the  Father  only  ”  (Matt.  xxiv.  36).  Of  course 
it  is  possible  to  interpret  “  day  and  hour  ”  with  strict  literalness. 
Under  this  interpretation,  the  passage  would  prove  nothing  to  our 
purpose.  But  at  another  time,  after  the  Resurrection,  when  he 
was  asked  if  he  was  at  once  to  restore  the  kingdom  to  Israel,  he 
answered  that  the  question  related  to  a  secret  of  the  Almighty  : 

“  It  is  not  for  you  to  know  times  or  seasons,  which  the  Father 
hath  set  within  his  own  authority”  (Acts  i.  7).  They  were  to 
carry  their  testimony,  he  added,  “  unto  the  uttermost  part  of  the 
earth.”  Here  we  see  the  eagerness  of  the  disciples  for  the  con¬ 
summation  of  the  kingdom,  side  by  side  with  the  assurance  of 
Christ  that  the  date  when  their  hopes  would  be  realized  was  an 
unknown,  unrevealed  fact  in  the  divine  administration.  At  the 
same  time,  it  will  not  be  questioned  by  the  soundest  interpreters, 
that,  had  any  considerable  interval  elapsed  between  the  capture  of 
Jerusalem  by  the  Romans  in  the  year  70,  and  the  composition 
of  the  synoptical  Gospels,  other  phraseology  would  have  been  used 
by  the  Evangelists,  or  at  least  some  explanation  thrown  in  respecting 
the  chronological  relation  of  that  event  to  the  advent  to  judgment.  | 
We  have,  therefore,  in  the  passages  referred  to,  satisfactory  evi¬ 
dence  that  the  first  three  Gospels  were  in  existence,  if  not  before, 
at  least  very  soon  after,  a.d.  70.  And  the  same  reasoning  proves  j 
that  they  existed  in  their  present  form  and  compass.  The  es¬ 
chatological  discourse  in  Matthew,  for  example,  is  homogeneous  in 
style  with  the  rest  of  the  Gospel ;  and,  in  any  revision  later  than 


234  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


the  date  given  above,  these  perplexing  statements  would  not  have 
been  left  unaltered  or  unexplained. 

Besides  the  eschatological  discourse,  there  are  many  passages 
in  the  first  three  Gospels,  sayings  and  occurrences,  which  imply 
the  state  of  things  which  preceded  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  and  did 
not  exist  afterward.1  The  Gospels  have  a  vocabulary  —  and  in 
this  particular  the  fourth  is  included  • —  which  is  characteristic  of 
them,  as  distinguished  from  the  Epistles  and  the  rest  of  the  New 
Testament.  One  example  is  the  use  in  the  Gospels  of  the  term 
“  Son  of  man.”  Another  example  is  the  use  of  Christ,  not  as  a 
proper  name,  but  as  signifying  the  Messiah.  The  term  “  church,” 
so  frequent  later  in  the  New  Testament,  is  found  in  the  Gospels 
only  in  two  places  in  Matthew.  Questions  pertaining  to  Church 
officers  and  ecclesiastical  controversies  and  customs  are  wholly 
absent  from  the  Gospels.  The  atmosphere  in  these  narratives  is 
quite  different.  It  belongs  to  an  earlier  time. 

The  long  and  searching  inquiry  on  the  question  of  the  origin  and 
mutual  relations  of  the  first  three  Gospels  has  not  been  without 
substantial  results.  The  great  influence  of  an  oral  tradition  which 
shaped  itself  at  Jerusalem,  where  the  apostles  remained  for  years, 
and  whose  repetition  of  the  Lord’s  sayings  and  acts  would  tend  to 
acquire  a  fixed  form,  is  now  generally  acknowledged.  The  inde¬ 
pendence  of  Mark  in  relation  to  the  other  Evangelists  is  an  assured 
fact.  The  priority  of  Mark  in  respect  to  date  of  composition,  if 
not  so  unanimously  accepted,  is  favored  by  a  large  body  of  learned 
scholars.  Leading  English  critics  are  disposed  to  claim  for  the 
oral  tradition  a  larger  agency  in  accounting  for  the  resemblances 
of  the  Synoptists  to  one  another  than  German  critics  consider  it 
possible  to  assume.  Westcott  favors  the  hypothesis  that  Matthew 
wrote  his  Gospel  in  the  Aramaic  ;  that  the  Aramaic  oral  tradition 
which  he  took  up  had  its  contemporaneous  parallel  in  a  Greek 
oral  tradition  ;  that,  about  the  time  of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem, 
the  Aramaic  Gospel  was  not  exactly  rendered  into  Greek,  but  its 
contents  exchanged  for  the  Greek  oral  counterpart ;  that  the  dis¬ 
ciple  who  thus  transferred  the  Aramaic  first  Gospel  of  Matthew 
into  Greek  added  here  and  there  certain  historical  memoranda. 
In  this  way  he  would  account  for  the  resemblances  of  the  matter 
contained  in  the  Synoptists.2 

1  For  good  remarks  under  this  head  see  Sanday,  Inspiration  (Bampton 
Lectures,  1893),  p.  284  seq. 

2  Westcott,  Introduction  to  the  Gospels ,  pp.  213,  214,  231  n. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


235 


Weiss,  in  common  with  most  critics  of  the  German  school,  of 
whom  he  is  one  of  the  most  eminent,  holds  that  the  peculiarities 
of  the  Synoptists  cannot  be  explained  by  the  influence  of  oral 
tradition  alone.  We  must  assume  an  interdependence.  His  view 
is,  that  the  oldest  Gospel  was  an  Aramaic  writing  of  Matthew, 
composed  mainly,  but  not  exclusively,  of  discourses  of  Christ, 
arranged  in  groups ;  that  this  was  rendered  into  Greek ;  that, 
immediately  after  the  capture  of  Jerusalem  by  Titus,  it  was 
amplified  by  historical  matter,  drawn  mainly  from  Mark,  —  the 
second  Gospel  having  been  previously  written,  as  the  ecclesiastical 
tradition  affirms,  by  the  same  Mark  who  had  attended  Barnabas 
and  Paul,  and  who  afterward  was  a  companion  of  Peter ;  that  the 
third  Gospel  was  composed  by  Luke,  the  companion  of  Paul,  who, 
in  addition  to  other  sources  of  information,  written  and  oral,  made 
use  of  the  oldest  document,  the  writing  of  Matthew,  and  the  nar¬ 
rative  of  Mark;  that  Luke’s  Gospel  was  composed  not  much  later 
than  the  “  first  decennium  after  a.d.  70.”  1 

From  the  foregoing  statements  it  will  be  seen  how  small,  com¬ 
paratively,  is  the  divergence  of  the  different  schools  of  judicious 
critics,  so  far  as  their  conclusions  have  a  bearing  on  these  essential 
points  connected  with  the  historical  evidences  of  Christianity. 
The  early  formation,  under  the  eyes  and  by  the  agency  of  the  im¬ 
mediate  disciples  of  Jesus,  of  an  oral  narrative  of  his  sayings  and 
of  the  events  of  his  life  ;  its  wide  diffusion  ;  its  incorporation  into 
the  second  Gospel,  prior  to  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  by  an 
author  who  had  listened  to  Peter ;  the  authorship  of  the  basis,  at 
least,  of  the  first  Gospel  by  the  Apostle  Matthew ;  the  completion 
of  the  first  Gospel  in  its  present  compass  not  far  from  the  date  of  the 
fall  of  the  city  and  the  consequent  dispersion  of  the  Christians, 
who  fled  at  the  coming  of  the  Romans ;  the  composition  of  Luke 
by  a  Christian  writer  who  had  access  to  immediate  testimony,  as 
well  as  to  writings  in  which  this  testimony  had  been  set  down 
by  disciples  situated  like  himself,  —  these  are  facts  which  erudite 
and  candid  scholars,  both  German  and  English,  whose  researches 
entitle  them  to  speak  with  confidence,  unite  in  affirming. 

A  few  words  may  be  said  upon  the  integrity  of  the  Gospels. 
The  guarantee  of  this  is  the  essential  agreement  of  the  existing 
manuscripts,  which  would  not  be  possible  had  the  early  texts  been 

1  Weiss,  Leben  Jesu,  B.  i.  24-84.  Weiss  thinks  also  that  some  traces  of  the 
primitive  Matthew  appear  in  Mark. 


236  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


tampered  with.  Renan  speaks  of  the  little  authority  which  the 
texts  of  the  Gospels  had  for  about  a  “  hundred  years  ”  ;  in  his  first 
edition  he  wrote  “  a  hundred  and  fifty.”  “  They  had  no  scruple,” 
he  adds,  “  about  inserting  in  them  paragraphs  combining  the  nar¬ 
ratives  diversely,  or  completing  some  by  others.  The  poor  man 
who  has  but  one  book  wishes  it  to  contain  everything  that  comes 
home  to  his  heart.  They  lent  these  little  rolls  to  one  another. 
Every  one  transcribed  on  the  margin  of  his  copy  the  words,  the 
parables,  which  he  found  elsewhere,  and  which  moved  him.” 1 
There  is  a  foundation  for  these  statements,  but  they  are  exagger¬ 
ated.  There  is  no  proof  that  the  Gospels  were  treated  with  this 
degree  of  license.  Had  they  been  so  treated,  the  differences  con¬ 
sequent  must  have  perpetuated  themselves  in  the  copies  derived 
from  the  early  texts.  With  regard  to  Renan’s  solitary  example  of 
an  insertion  of  any  length,  —  Johnviii.  1-11  (he  might  have  added 
one  more,  Mark  xvi.  9-20),  —  these  passages  are  doubted,  or  re¬ 
jected  from  the  text,  by  scholars,  mainly  on  this  very  ground  of 
a  lack  of  manuscript  attestation.  No  doubt,  here  and  there  mar¬ 
ginal  annotations,  made  for  liturgical  purposes,  or  from  some  other 
innocent  motive,  have  crept  into  the  text.  The  close  of  the  Lord’s 
Prayer  (Matt.  vi.  13)  —  “  For  thine  is  the  kingdom,”  etc.  —  is  such 
an  addition.  In  the  second  century  the  diversities  in  the  copies 
of  the  canonical  Gospels  were  considerable.2  It  is  the  business 
of  textual  criticism  to  ascertain  what  readings  are  to  be  preferred. 
The  statement  that  the  early  Christians  felt  no  interest  whatever 
in  keeping  the  text  of  the  Gospels  intact  is  unfounded.3 

1  Vie  de  Jesus ,  13th  ed.,  p.  iv. 

2  See  Westcott’s  History  of  the  Canon  of  the  New  Testament ,  p.  149  seq. 

3  Other  statements,  in  the  same  connection,  have  even  less  foundation. 
“They  attached  little  importance,”  says  Renan,  “to  these  writings,”  —  Gos¬ 
pels;  “and  the  collectors  (conservateurs),  such  as  Papias,  in  the  first  half 
of  the  second  century,  still  preferred  to  them  the  oral  tradition.”  On  the  con¬ 
trary,  the  work  of  Papias  was  itself  a  commentary  on  the  Gospels,  or  on 
portions  of  them.  In  his  remarks  about  his  esteem  of  oral  tradition,  he  is  not 
comparing  the  Gospels  with  other  sources  of  information,  but  probably  refers 
to  anecdotes  respecting  them  and  their  authors  which  he  interwove  in  his 
comments,  and  which  he  preferred  to  derive,  from  oral  sources.  See  Eusebius, 
//.  E.,  iii.  39.  Renan’s  reference  to  Irenseus  ( Adv .  Hcer .,  iii.  cc.  2,  3)  proves 
nothing  to  the  purpose.  It  contains  no  hint  of  a  preference  of  tradition  to 
the  Gospels.  Renan  further  says,  “  Besides  the  Gospels  that  have  reached 
us,  there  were  others  ”  —  in  his  first  edition  he  wrote  “  a  multitude  of  others  ” 
—  “  pretending  equally  to  represent  the  tradition  of  eye-witnesses.”  How 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


237 


Note 

The  question  of  the  authorship  of  the  third  Gospel  is  involved  in 
that  of  the  authorship  of  the  book  of  Acts.  Moreover,  so  much  is 
said  at  present  respecting  the  authorship  of  the  Acts  and  the  cred¬ 
ibility  of  its  contents,  that,  on  this  account  also,  these  topics  deserve 
special  notice.  The  unvarying  tradition  of  the  Church  ascribes 
both  books  to  Luke  —  the  same  Luke  whom  the  apostle  Paul 
styles  as  one  of  his  fellow-laborers,1  and  refers  to  as  the  beloved 
physician,2  and  who  is  spoken  of  in  the  Second  Epistle  to  Timothy 
as  the  only  companion  of  the  apostle  at  the  time  this  Epistle  was 
written.  It  has  already  been  remarked,  that  no  interpretation  of 
the  “  we  passages  ”  in  the  Acts  is  probable  which  does  not  regard 
them  as  a  record  of  personal  observations  of  the  author  of  the 
book. 

The  principal  basis  of  the  impeachment  of  the  genuineness  of 
the  Acts  is  the  alleged  improbability  of  a  portion  of  its  historic 
contents.  The  theory  that  the  book  was  composed  late  with  the 
intent  to  pacify  the  contention  of  Petrine  and  Pauline  factions 
in  the  early  Church  is  so  nearly  obsolete,  the  existence  of  such 
a  rupture  and  antagonism  being  itself  a  fiction,  that  a  bare  allusion 
to  it  is  all  that  is  required  at  present.  Whatever  similarity  is  found 
in  the  acts  and  fortunes  which  the  narrative  assigns  severally  to 
the  two  apostles,  it  is  only  what  might  be  expected  if  they  were 
both  active  in  the  same  work  in  different  fields,  —  which,  as  the 
apostle  Paul  himself  states,  was  the  fact.3  If  the  author  of  the 
Acts  felt  an  interest  in  this  parallelism,  or  even  if  he  selected 
events  illustrating  it,  the  resemblance  is  naturally  accounted  for. 

None  of  the  histories  in  the  New  Testament  has  called  out  in  a 
greater  degree  than  the  Acts  the  criticism  inspired  by  suspicion, 
which,  as  Lightfoot  has  said,  is  not  more  sensible  when  applied  to 
historical  writers  than  when  applied  to  one’s  neighbors.  The 
omission  to  set  down  incidents  of  which  we  are  informed  else- 

little  warrant  there  is  for  this  statement  respecting  apocryphal  Gospels,  and 
how  erroneous  is  the  impression  which  it  conveys,  have  been  shown  in  preced¬ 
ing  pages  of  this  chapter.  The  “  many  ”  writings  to  whom  Luke  refers  in  his 
prologue  were  soon  superseded,  and  passed  away.  There  is  no  proof  that  any 
one  of  them  had  a  wide  circulation.  There  were  left  no  competitors  with  the 
Gospels  of  the  canon,  and  none  arose. 

1  Philemon,  vs.  24.  2  Col.  iv.  14;  2  Tim.  iv.  11.  3  Gal.  ii.  7,  8. 


238  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


where  —  the  precarious  argument  from  silence  —  has  been  made 
the  basis  of  quite  unwarranted  inferences  in  dealing  with  this  book. 
Whatever  may  be  true  as  to  alleged  inaccuracies  in  Luke’s  narra¬ 
tive,  archaeology,  in  numerous  instances,  confirms  its  correctness 
in  a  striking  way.  Lightfoot,  who  is  not  inclined  to  exaggerate, 
says  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  “  In  the  multiplicity  and  variety  of 
its  details  it  probably  affords  greater  means  of  testing  its  general 
character  for  truth  than  any  other  ancient  narrative  in  existence ; 
and  in  my  opinion  it  satisfies  the  tests  fully.”1  Much  has  been  said 
of  certain  discrepancies  which  are  said  to  exist  between  the  Acts 
and  the  Pauline  Epistles.  This  implies  what,  aside  from  this  alle¬ 
gation,  is  obviously  true,  that  the  narrative  is  not  framed  on  the 
basis  of  the  Epistles,  but  quite  independently.  The  Horce.  Paulincz 
of  Paley,  the  most  original  of  his  apologetic  works,  presents,  in  a 
convincing  way,  undesigned  coincidences  which  verify  statements 
in  the  Acts,  and  so  far  the  trustworthiness  of  the  author.  As 
regards  accuracy,  the  distinction  must  be  kept  in  mind  between 
the  earlier  portion  of  the  book  and  the  later  portions.  For  the 
earlier  chapters  the  sources  of  information,  although  they  included 
written  statements,  were  indirect  and  in  part  oral,  so  that  a  less 
degree  of  precision  here  and  there  might  be  expected.  Light- 
foot’s  observation  is  especially  true  of  the  later  chapters.  Of  the 
difference  between  these  and  the  earlier,  Professor  Ramsay  ob¬ 
serves  :  — 

“  In  the  later  chapters  there  are  few  sentences  that  do  not  afford  some 
test  of  their  accuracy  by  mentioning  external  facts  of  life,  history,  and 
antiquities.  But  the  earlier  chapters  contain  comparatively  few  such 
details.2  The  author  had  means  of  knowing  the  later  events  with  perfect 
accuracy  (so  far  as  perfection  can  be  attained  in  history),  but  the  means 
which  helped  him  there,  and  the  scene  and  surroundings,  were  to  him 
strange  and  remote.”3  “We  discern  the  same  guiding  hand  and  mind, 
the  same  clear  historical  insight  seizing  the  great  and  critical  steps  ;  but 
the  description  of  the  primitive  church  wants  precision  in  the  outline 
and  color  in  the  details.”4  “Luke  was  dependent  here  on  informal 
narratives  and  on  oral  traditions.” 

Of  the  first  chapters  in  the  Acts,  a  most  competent  American  scholar, 

1  Apt  illustrations  follow  this  statement,  Dissertations  on  the  Apostolic  Age , 
p.  105;  St.  Paul  and  the  Three. 

2  St.  Paul,  the  Traveller  and  the  Roman  Citizen,  p.  19. 

8  Ibid.,  p.  367.  4  Ibid.,  p.  370. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


239 


the  late  Professor  J.  Henry  Thayer,  remarks:  “  The  writer  is  honestly 
endeavoring  to  record  facts  and  truths,”  according  to  the  information  he 
had  received.  “  On  any  sensible  view  the  discrepancies  are  of  no  great 
account  except  as  evidence  of  independence,  and  of  substantial  trust¬ 
worthiness.”  1 

There  are  characteristics  of  style  in  Luke  that  should  be  taken  into 
account,  which,  however,  must  not  be  confounded  with  important 

—  much  less  intentional  —  error.  An  occasional  hyperbole  is  not 
a  serious  offence  in  an  author.  An  instance  is  the  reference,  in 
words  ascribed  to  James,  to  the  tens  of  thousands  —  “myriads” 

—  of  Jewish  believers  present  'at  Jerusalem  (Acts  xxi.  20).  An¬ 
other  example  is  the  statement  relative  to  the  giving  up  of  private 
ownership,  as  if  it  were  universal  (Acts  iv.  32,  34),  —  a  statement 
which  subsequent  passages  in  the  Acts  incidentally  restrict  ( e.g . 
Acts  xii.  12).  The  author’s  pen  was  not  that  of  a  statistician. 
There  are  not  wanting,  however,  cases  where  the  narrative  is 
made  graphic  by  explanatory  details  woven  into  it.  Thus  (in 
Acts  iv.  15,  16)  we  read  that  the  Jewish  rulers,  after  having 
arraigned  Peter  and  John,  put  their  heads  together,  as  a  present- 
day  writer  might  say,  and  agreed  that  a  miracle  had  without 
doubt  been  wrought,  and  that,  as  they  could  not  deny  it,  they 
could  do  nothing  but  silence  the  apostles  with  threats.  A  confer¬ 
ence,  such  as  their  proceeding  was  conceived  to  imply,  is  intro¬ 
duced,  as  if  it  were  an  ascertained  fact  (Acts  iv.  15-17).  So  it 
may  have  been ;  yet  it  may  be  an  inference  due  to  Luke’s  inform¬ 
ants,  which  it  would  have  been  more  accurate  in  them  to  state 
less  positively,  as  a  probable  supposition.  In  the  account  of  the 
speaking  with  tongues  (Acts  ii.),  the  amazed  people  connect  with 
the  question  “  How  hear  we  in  our  own  language  ”  an  enumera¬ 
tion  of  all  the  many  regions  from  which  they  had  come.  This  is 
an  expanded  paraphrase  of  exclamations  of  the  excited  throng. 
Our  confidence  in  Luke  is  confirmed  by  his  insertion  of  the  same 
event  with  variations  of  detail.  He  felt  bound  no  more  than  any 
other  author  to  bind  himself  to  an  identity  in  phraseology.  But 
it  is  necessary  in  certain  instances  to  presuppose  a  difference  of 
sources.  Luke  takes  no  pains  to  harmonize  the  details.  The 
most  striking  instance  is  the  three  accounts  of  the  conversion  of 
the  apostle  Paul  (Acts  xx.,  xxii.,  xxvi.).  Here  the  apostle’s  own 
account  addressed  to  Agrippa  (ch.  xxvi.)  is  to  be  regarded,  of 

1  From  The  Congregationalist,  July  6,  1901. 


240  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


course,  as  of  primary  value.  The  extended  speeches  in  the  Acts 
are  generally,  as  concerns  their  phraseology,  a  composition  of  the 
author.  The  ancient  writers,  as  all  scholars  know,  were  in  the 
habit  of  throwing  into  the  direct  form  —  the  oratio  recta  —  or 
the  form  of  quotation,  what  a  modern  writer  presents  in  form,  as 
well  as  in  fact,  in  his  own  language.1  They  are,  doubtless, 
in  some  instances  abbreviated,  or  given  for  substance  merely. 
Yet  there  is  no  reason  to  regard  them  with  distrust ;  on  the 
contrary,  they  often  have  an  obvious  verisimilitude  which  speaks 
for  the  fidelity  of  the  report.  This  is  eminently  true,  to  men¬ 
tion  one  instance,  of  the  discourse  of  Paul  at  Athens.  Much 
has  been  made  of  a  supposed  anachronism  in  the  speech 
attributed  to  Gamaliel  (Acts  v.  34  seq.).  He  is  represented  to 
have  appealed  to  the  example  (among  others)  of  the  abortive 
sedition  of  Theudas,  which,  if  Josephus  is  right,  occurred  later 
than  the  date  of  Gamaliel’s  speech.  On  this  passage  Neander 
says  :  — 

“  It  is  very  possible  that  at  different  times  two  persons  named 
Theudas  raised  a  sedition  among  the  Jews,  as  the  name  was  by  no 
means  uncommon.  ...  It  is  also  possible  that  Luke,  in  the  relation 
of  the  event  which  he  had  before  him,  found  the  example  of  Theudas 
adduced  as  something  analogous,  or  that  one  name  has  happened  to  be 
substituted  for  another.  In  either  case  it  is  of  little  importance.”  2 

Neander’s  comment  illustrates  the  spirit  of  sound  historical  criti¬ 
cism.  It  is  in  sharp  contrast  with  the  superficial  habit  of  not  a 
few  critics,  whose  method,  if  followed,  would  discredit  most  his¬ 
torical  writings. 

The  idea  (in  Acts  ii.)  of  what  the  speaking  with  tongues  in  the 
churches  was,  is  said  to  be  a  misinterpretation  which  could  not 
have  been  entertained  by  a  companion  of  the  apostle  Paul.  Ac¬ 
cording  to  the  apostle  it  was  the  excited  utterance  of  inarticulate 
sounds  which  only  those  made  competent  by  a  gift  of  the  Spirit 
could  interpret.3  But  in  the  Acts,  the  speaking  with  tongues  at 
Pentecost  is  represented  as  speaking  in  foreign  languages.  But 
a  mistake  respecting  the  nature  of  the  phenomenon  as  it  appeared 

1  A  special,  instructive  discussion,  by  Tholuck,  of  the  speeches  of  Paul  in 
the  Acts  is  in  the  Stud.  u.  Kritik.,  (1839,  II.). 

2  Neander,  Planting  and  Training  of  the  Church  (ed.  Robinson),  p.  46. 

8  1  Corinthians  xii.  10  seq.,  xiv.  1  seq. 


THE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


241 


in  the  apostolic  churches  would  be  as  difficult  to  account  for, 
were  it  made  by  any  other  to  whom  the  book  of  Acts  could  rea¬ 
sonably  be  ascribed  as  by  its  reputed  author.  By  some  of  the 
exegetes  the  passage  is  understood  to  signify  that  the  miracle 
consisted  not  in  speaking  but  in  the  hearing  —  which  is  the  term 
used  in  the  text.  Wendt,  who  adopts  this  view,  suggests  that  the 
utterances  were  probably  distinct  from  any  existing  language,  and 
yet  such  as  to  open  the  way  for  the  miraculous  comprehension 
of  their  import.1  Perhaps  the  account  in  Luke  was  current  as 
a  popular  tradition.  Professor  'Thayer  takes  this  view.2  “The 
writer  ”  [Luke],  he  says,  “  is  honestly  endeavoring  to  record 
facts  and  truths.  Even  when  he  obviously  labors  under  misappre¬ 
hension,  as  in  the  case  of  the  gift  of  tongues  (ii.  5  seq.),  he  gives  the 
story  as  he  doubtless  received  it  (compare  Mark  xvi.  17)  without 
attempting  to  remove  its  obvious  incongruities,”  etc.  Professor 
Ramsay  also  writes  of  Acts  ii.  5-1 1,  that  a  “  popular  tale  seems  to 
obtrude  itself.  In  these  verses,  the  power  of  speaking  with  tongues 
.  .  .  is  taken  in  the  sense  of  speaking  in  many  languages.  Here 
again  we  observe  the  distorting  influence  of  popular  fancy.”3 

The  principal  allegation  adverse  to  the  trustworthiness,  and  so 
to  the  accepted  view,  of  the  genuineness  of  the  Acts  is  that  of 
an  inconsistency  of  the  account  of  the  apostolic  conference 
or  council  (in  Acts  xv.)  with  the  apostle  Paul’s  own  statement 
(in  Gal.  ii.)  as  to  his  relations  to  the  other  apostles  and  to  the 
Jewish  Christians  generally.  Paul,  in  this  place,  relates  only  a 
private  interview,  but  his  language  implies  that  there  was,  besides, 
a  public  conference.  There  is  no  contradiction  here.  That  the 
three  apostles,  Peter,  James,  and  John,  after  hearing  him  describe 
his  evangelic  work  and  its  fruits,  gave  him  the  right  hand  of  fellow¬ 
ship  and  bade  him  God-speed  in  his  mission  to  the  Gentiles  he 
emphatically  asserts.  Nor  is  there  any  inconsistency  between  his 
statement  that  they  “  added  ”  or  “  imparted  ”  nothing  to  him  — 
that  is,  in  the  way  of  supplement  or  criticism  —  and  the  prescrip¬ 
tions  which  were  sent,  according  to  Acts  xv.,  to  the  Gentile 
churches  in  the  neighboring  region.  The  one  thing  insisted  upon 
by  Paul,  that  the  Gentile  believers  should  not  be  required  to  be 

1  Wendt,  Apostelgeschichte,  ad  loc.  That  there  was  a  speaking  of  foreign 
languages  is  not  confirmed  by  the  phraseology  in  Acts  x.  47,  xi.  15,  17,  xix.  6. 

2  As  cited  above. 

x 

3  St.  Paul,  the  Traveller  and  the  Roman  Citizen,  p.  370. 

R 


242  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


circumcised,  was  settled  according  to  his  mind.  This  was  the 
question  respecting  which  the  conference  was  held.  The  require¬ 
ments  or  requests  which  were  sent  forth  contained  nothing  at 
variance  with  any  teaching  of  the  apostle  Paul  concerning  what 
was  right  and  proper  to  be  done  or  to  be  left  undone  by  Gentile 
converts  who  lived  in  the  midst  of  Jewish  believers.  It  was  a 
modus  viveiidi  for  the  two  classes  of  Christians,  a  provision  for 
securing  cordial  recognition  as  fellow- Christians  from  those  who 
kept  up  the  observances  of  the  Mosaic  laws  —  observances,  so  far 
as  born  Jews  were  concerned,  which  the  apostle  Paul  counte¬ 
nanced.  It  was  understood  that  Peter’s  special  mission  was  to  be 
to  the  Jews  —  to  “  the  circumcision  ”  —  and  Paul’s  to  the  Gentiles. 
At  a  later  day,  when  Paul  had  planted  the  Gospel  far  beyond  the 
limits  of  “  Syria  and  Cilicia,”  and  was  giving  counsel  to  churches 
principally  made  up  of  Gentiles,  his  omission  to  make  formal 
reference  to  the  letter  of  the  council  or  to  consider  it,  under  the 
circumstances,  applicable,  require  no  explanation  or  defence. 
Yet  the  counsel  which  he  gave,  even  then,  was  substantially  in 
accord  with  its  terms.  In  making  his  collection  for  the  poor  at 
Jerusalem  he  made  no  reference  in  his  Epistles  to  the  agreement 
which  he  had  made  with  the  other  apostles  to  do  so.  It  was  still 
quite  possible  that  James  should  continue  to  regard  the  letter  as 
defining  what  was  to  be  generally  expected  of  the  Gentiles  (Acts 
xxi.  25).  The  fault  which  the  apostle  Paul  found  with  Peter  at 
Antioch  was  not  that  Peter  differed  from  him  in  principle,  but 
that  he  was  unfaithful  to  his  own  convictions,  and  by  departing 
from  the  liberal  course  which  he  had  before  pursued  was  likely  to 
make  a  misleading  impression  on  the  Gentile  believers.  The  idea 
of  some  critics  that  Paul  at  Antioch  had  converted  Peter  to  his 
own  liberal  view,  and  that,  therefore,  the  entire  narrative  (in 
Acts  x.  1  seq.)  of  the  connection  of  Peter  with  Cornelius  is 
unhistorical,  has  no  foundation.  Such  a  transaction  as  that  de¬ 
scribed  in  Acts  x.  1  seq.  enables  us  to  explain  Peter’s  preparation 
of  mind  for  the  catholic  course  taken  by  him  subsequently.  The 
imagined  “enlightenment”  of  Peter  by  persuasions  of  Paul  at 
Antioch  is  without  a  grain  of  historic  evidence  to  rest  upon.  If 
the  events  described  in  the  story  of  Peter  and  Cornelius,  of  which 
we  are  furnished  with  so  detailed  an  account,  are  discredited,  it  is 
a  remarkable  instance  of  the  “lie  circumstantial.”  As  to  the 
demand  then  made  at  Antioch  by  zealous  Jewish  Christians  from 


TIIE  GOSPELS  AN  AUTHENTIC  RECORD 


243 


Jerusalem,  —  whether  or  not  they  were  in  accord  with  a  feeling  of 
James  we  cannot  be  sure,  —  it  did  not  clash  with  the  concessions 
which  James  had  made  at  the  council,  for  these  did  not  touch  on 
the  question  whether  Jewish  believers  should  go  so  far  in  fraterniz¬ 
ing  with  the  Gentiles  as  to  disregard  the  traditional  prohibitions 
to  eat  with  the  uncircumcised,  even  though  they  were  acknowl¬ 
edged  as  Christian  brethren  and  were  even  loved  as  such.  If  the 
apostle  Paul  was  disposed  to  take  a  broader  view  of  the  spirit 
of  the  Jerusalem  missive,  it  was  a  difference  of  interpretation 
which  might  naturally  arise  between  two  men  so  unlike  in  their 
natural  qualities.  The  refusal  of  Paul  to  circumcise  Titus  has 
been  made  an  argument  to  disprove  the  historical  truth  of  the 
account  in  Acts  of  the  circumcision  of  Timothy  (Acts  xvi.  1-4). 
It  is  said  that  Paul  would  not  have  done  at  one  time  what  he 
absolutely  refused  to  do  at  another.  But  why  did  he  refuse  to 
circumcise  Titus  ?  First,  because  he  was  a  heathen  by  birth,  and 
secondly,  because  his  circumcision  was  demanded  on  doctrinal 
grounds,  so  that  to  yield  would  have  been  to  give  up  at  once  the 
rights  of  the  Gentiles  and  the  truth  of  justification  by  faith.  But 
Timothy  was  the  son  of  a  Jewish  mother,  and  “  all  knew  that  his 
father  was  a  Greek,”  and  he  was  circumcised  for  a  totally  different 
reason  from  that  for  which  the  circumcision  of  Titus  was  demanded. 
Timothy  was  circumcised  out  of  respect  to  unconverted  Jews,  not 
converted  judaizers.  His  circumcision  neither  imperilled  the  free¬ 
dom  of  the  Gentiles,  nor  conflicted  with  the  doctrine  of  justification. 
In  this  act  Paul  simply  made  himself  “  a  Jew  unto  the  Jew.” 
That  is,  he  followed  his  maxim  of  making  himself  all  things  to  all 
men  —  so  far  as  no  principle  was  violated.1  The  circumcision  of 
Timothy  as  truly  illustrates  the  principles  of  Paul  as  the  circum¬ 
cision  of  Titus  would  have  contradicted  them. 

The  substantial  correctness  of  the  narrative  of  the  action 
of  the  Jerusalem  conference  as  it  is  given  in  the  Acts  is  placed 
beyond  reasonable  doubt  by  one  consideration.  From  what  is 
known  of  James  and  is  conceded  by  critics  of  every  school,  we 
may  be  sure  that  he  could  not  have  been  satisfied  with  less  in 
the  way  of  concession  on  the  part  of  the  Gentile  converts  than  the 
result  of  the  conference  called  for.  It  is  equally  certain  that  the 
apostle  Paul  would  never  have  consented  to  the  requirement  of 
more.  And  we  know  from  Paul’s  own  lips  that  the  two  apostles 

^  1  Cor.  ix.  20  seq. 


244  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


joined  hands  in  fraternal  fellowship.  In  connection  with  the 
Jerusalem  conference  there  are  debated  questions  of  chronology, 
but  these  are  of  minor  importance.  Enough  that  nothing  can  be 
shown  to  affect  the  general  credibility  of  the  Acts  or  the  view  as 
to  its  authorship  which  was  entertained  in  the  Church  from  the 
beginning.1 

1  The  truth  of  the  account  given  of  the  council  in  Acts  is  urgently  main¬ 
tained  by  critics  who  are  least  of  all  open  to  the  suspicion  of  an  apologetic 
bias.  Such  are  Keim,  Aus  dem  Urchristenthum,  pp.  64-89,  Mangold,  in  Man- 
gold-Bleek,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  p.  300  n.  Even  Weizsacker,  who  makes 
much  of  what  he  regards  as  difficulties  in  Luke’s  narrative,  concedes  the  his¬ 
torical  fact  of  the  decree  as  its  contents  are  given  by  him.  See  Das  Aposto- 
lisches  Zeitalter,  p.  179.  For  remarks  which  evince  here  a  sound  historical 
perception,  see  Wendt  in  Meyer-Wendt,  Apostelgeschichtet  ad.  c.  xv. 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL 

It  is  plain  to  every  observant  reader  that  the  fourth  Gospel  has 
certain  marked  points  of  unlikeness  to  the  first  three.  This  fact 
is  the  occasion  of  the  controversy  as  to  its  apostolic  origin.  The 
reasons  assigned  for  doubt  or  explicit  denial  on  this  point  are  en¬ 
titled  to  candid  attention.  Not  to  prejudice  the  case,  it  is  yet 
right  to  remind  the  reader  that  the  situation  is  one  where  the 
weapon  of  the  assailant  is  liable  to  be  turned  against  himself.  For 
the  greater  the  contrast  between  this  Gospel  and  the  other  three, 
the  more  serious,  perhaps  —  if  the  Gospel  be  not  genuine  —  may 
be  the  task  of  accounting  both  for  the  creation  of  such  a  narrative 
and  for  the  acceptance  of  its  authority  in  the  place  and  at  the  period 
of  its  origin,  and  by  the  churches,  far  and  wide,  in  the  Roman  Em¬ 
pire.  Moreover,  it  is  conceivable  that  this  evident  contrast  should 
be  more  than  balanced  by  deeper,  even  if  less  obvious  features  ofj 
resemblance. 

The  ordinary  belief  respecting  the  apostle  John  has  been  derived, 
first,  from  the  Synoptic  Gospels,  secondly,  from  the  contents  of  the 
fourth  Gospel,  and  thirdly,  from  the  ancient  ecclesiastical  writings. 
From  these  sources  it  is  ascertained  that  the  father  of  the  apostle,  if  not 
wealthy,  was  possessed  of  a  competence,  and  in  his  occupation,  which 
was  that  of  a  fisherman,  employed  hired  laborers.  His  home  was  by 
the  Sea  of  Galilee,  a  sheet  of  water  which  was  girded  by  a  circle  of 
prosperous  cities.1  The  adjacent  region  was  peopled  by  a  dense  popu¬ 
lation,  spirited  and  thriving,  mostly  made  up  of  Jews.  But  it  was 
covered  by  a  network  of  roads,  and  was  traversed  by  the  great  commer¬ 
cial  route  from  Damascus  to  the  Mediterranean,  which  passed  into 
Phoenicia,  a  land  “  half  Greek,”  the  busy  centre  of  manufactures  and 
trade.  Galilee  could  be  no  stranger  to  Graeco-Roman  traits  and  ways 

1  An  excellent  description  of  Galilee  is  given  by  Professor  G.  A.  Smith,  His¬ 
torical  Geography  of  Palestine.  See,  also,  S.  Merrill,  in  Hastings’s  Dictionary 
of  the  Bible ,  art.  “Galilee,  Sea  of”;  and,  by  the  same  author,  Galilee  in  the 
Time  of  Christ. 


245 


246  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


that  overspread  the  lands  on  the  east  and  westward  to  the  seacoast. 
John  had  the  nurture  which  Jewish  youth  usually  received  in  a  religious 
household  and  from  schools  connected  with  the  synagogues.  His  spirit 
is  indicated  by  his  presence  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  a  devout  listener 
to  the  preaching  of  John  the  Baptist.  Introduced  there  to  Jesus,  and 
called  afterward  to  be  his  permanent  follower,  he  appears  in  the  Synop¬ 
tics  as  one  of  the  three  most  prominent  apostles,  a  leadership  which,  St. 
Paul  informs  us,  he  retained  later,  when  James,  the  brother  of  the  Lord, 
had  taken  the  place  of  one  of  them.  He  is  depicted  in  the  earlier 
period  as  being  of  a  temperament  fervid,  even  to  the  point  of  vehe¬ 
mence,  yet  with  another,  but  not  at  all  incongruous,  phase  of  character, 
a  sensibility  and  a  gentleness  which  especially  endeared  him  to  Jesus. 
After  the  death  of  the  Master  he  is  seen  standing  with  Peter  before  the 
Sanhedrim,  both  speaking  with  a  fearless  confidence  that  excited  wonder 
in  this  tribunal.  By  them  the  two  apostles  are  stigmatized  as  an  “un¬ 
learned  and  ignorant  couple,”  —  by  which  is  not  meant  that  they  are 
plebeians  or  weak-minded,  but  that  they  are  not  possessed  of  the  learn¬ 
ing  of  the  rabbis  —  much  as  a  body  of  official  clergy  might  look  down 
upon  a  brace  of  laymen  not  versed  in  the  lore  of  the  schools,  yet  as¬ 
suming  to  instruct  their  superiors.  The  second  period  in  the  career  of 
the  apostle  John  begins  under  circumstances  greatly  altered.  The 
Jewish  nation  is  prostrated  by  the  Roman  conquest.  The  temple  is  in 
ruins.  The  apostle  has  found  a  home  in  the  heart  of  a  Gentile  commu¬ 
nity,  in  an  atmosphere  where  Christian  disciples  are  more  or  less  affected 
by  Hellenistic  influences.  He  is  the  venerated  guide  of  a  group  of 
churches  differing  in  some  of  their  characteristics  from  Christian  socie¬ 
ties  of  a  predominantly  Jewish  cast.  Here,  in  the  closing  decades  of 
his  life,  as  the  century  draws  to  its  end,  it  falls  to  his  lot  to  commu¬ 
nicate,  orally  and  in  writings,  the  facts  in  the  life  of  Jesus  of  most  interest 
to  himself  and  of  most  profit  to  his  disciples,  and  to  set  forth  that  por¬ 
tion  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus  which  lay  nearest  his  own  heart. 

Down  to  a  comparatively  recent  date  the  apostolic  authorship 
of  the  fourth  Gospel  had  been  virtually  undisputed.  The  soli¬ 
tary  exception  of  a  handful  of  dissentients  in  the  ancient  period 
was  in  a  form  and  under  circumstances  which  deprive  it  of  the 
slightest  weight  as  an  historical  testimony.  This  is  perceived  by 
noteworthy  scholars,  such  as  Zeller,  notwithstanding  that  they 
themselves  hold  the  same  negative  opinion.  This  Gospel  has 
been  prized  by  the  most  gifted  minds  in  the  Christian  Church 
as  the  pearl  of  the  Evangelic  histories.  An  early  Father,  Clement 
of  Alexandria,  in  whom  genius  was  united  with  wide  and  varied 
learning,  characterized  it  as  “the  spiritual  Gospel”  that  followed 
after  the  other  three,  which  had  dealt  more  with  the  external 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  247 


aspects  of  the  life  of  Jesus.  By  none  has  this  estimate  been  more 
emphatically  reechoed  than  by  Luther,  who  pronounced  it  the 
unique,  tender,  preeminent  Gospel,  far  excelling  the  other  three.1 

The  genuineness  of  the  fourth  Gospel  was  called  in  question  by 
one  or  more  of  the  later  English  Deists,  and  occasionally  about 
a  century  ago,  on  the  continent,  by  individuals  of  little  account. 
More  stir  was  made  in  1820  by  the  publication  of  Bretschneider, 
a  more  prominent  theologian  of  the  rationalistic  type,  who  after¬ 
wards  partially  disavowed  his  opinion.  With  the  rise  of  the  Tu¬ 
bingen  School  of  critics,  near  the  middle  of  the  century  just 
closed,  the  polemic  against  the  generally  accepted  view  of  the 
authorship  of  the  Gospel  began  to  be  waged  with  a  much  larger 
outlay  of  learning  and  ingenuity.  The  shock  occasioned  by  the 
advocacy,  in  different  quarters,  of  the  anti-Johannean  view  is  liable 
unquestionably  to  give  to  the  defence  of  the  ordinary  conserva¬ 
tive  view  an  apologetic  bias.  On  the  other  hand,  certainly  the 
earlier  pioneers  of  the  negative  opinion,  and  the  later,  includ¬ 
ing  Strauss  and  Baur,  are  properly  classified  under  the  head  of 
Rationalists,  in  the  usual  acceptation  of  the  term,  with  whom 
there  is,  to  say  the  least,  a  natural  and  surely  an  equally  unscien¬ 
tific  prepossession  adverse  to  an  opinion  which,  if  sound,  affixes 
to  the  testimony  in  this  Gospel  respecting  facts  and  doctrine  the 
seal  of  an  apostolic  witness  of  the  first  rank. 

The  rejection  of  the  Johannean  authorship,  so  far  as  we  need  to 
notice  it  here,  began  with  the  essay  of  Baur  in  1844.2  His  idea  of 
the  fourth  Gospel  was  part  and  parcel  of  his  theory  of  the  philos¬ 
ophy  of  history  in  general,  and  of  the  evolution  of  Christianity  in 
particular.  Christianity  was  held  to  be  a  development  on  the 
plane  of  nature,  which  passed  through  successive  stages,  matching 
the  abstract  scheme  of  the  Hegelian  logic.  Baur’s  theory  con¬ 
cerning  the  Gospel  is  at  least  definite  and  intelligible.  He  did 
not  wage,  as  many  do,  a  guerilla  warfare  on  received  opinions. 
His  view  is  that  the  book  is  an  idealized  history,  a  mixture  of  fact 
and  fiction.  The  author  was  at  once  devout  and  speculative.  He 

1  “  .  .  .  ist  Johannis  Evangelium  das  einzige,  zarte,  recht  Hauptevangelium, 
und  den  anderen  dreien  weit,  weit  vorzuziehen  und  hoher  zu  heben.”  It  has, 
adds  Luther,  fewer  events  and  tnore  preaching  (predigt).  Luther’s  Vorrede 
N.  T.,  ed.  1545. 

2  In  Zeller’s  Jbb.,  1844,  vol.  i.  pp.  2,  3  ;  Kritisch.  Untersuch .  ub.  d.  kanonisch . 
Evangg.,  1847. 


248  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


was  a  Gnostic  who  cherished  a  certain  conception  of  the  Logos  or 
Word,  believed  in  the  identity  of  the  Logos  with  the  historic  Jesus, 
and  aimed  to  exhibit  this  identity  in  a  fictitious  narrative  of  a 
symbolic  character.  The  book  then  is  a  theological  romance  com¬ 
posed  for  this  end,  and  at  the  same  time  to  bring  together  diverg¬ 
ing  theological  parties. 

The  historic  material,  much  of  which  is  in  the  main  a  creation  of  the 
author,  presents  in  the  concrete  his  idea  of  the  Logos.  The  distinction 
made  between  “light”  and  “darkness”  becomes  in  the  Gospel  a  bold 
dualism.  The  principle  of  darkness  is  embodied  in  the  Jews,  and  the 
development  of  their  unbelief  is  made  to  keep  pace  with  the  progressive 
manifestation  of  Christ,  or  of  the  Logos  in  Christ,  which  provokes  it. 
External  events,  especially  miracles,  are  merely  a  sensuous  counterpart 
or  mirror  of  “the  idea”  —  a  kind  of  staging  set  up  by  the  author  to  be 
forthwith  pulled  down.  One  design,  we  are  told,  is  to  show  the  nullity 
of  a  faith  which  is  produced  by  miracles.  They  are  introduced  into  the 
Gospel  as  a  crutch  brought  in  for  the  sake  of  being  cast  aside. 

On  this  theory,  how  shall  we  conceive  of  the  mental  state  of  the 
Evangelist  ?  We  are  assured  that  he  is  sincere ;  that  in  imagination 
he  identifies  himself  with  the  apostle  John;  that  so  far  as  doctrine  is 
concerned,  he  writes  as  he  feels  that  John  would  write  were  he  alive. 
In  short,  he  is  absorbed  in  a  series  of  pictorial  views  ( Anschauungen 
und  Bilder )  of  the  grandest  and  most  significant  character.  In  the 
course  of  his  work  on  this  Gospel,  Baur  not  infrequently  intimates  that 
the  author  in  his  own  consciousness  well-nigh  confounds  fancy  with 
fact.  He  loses  himself,  as  it  were,  in  the  symbols  of  his  own  creation. 
He  is  in  a  kind  of  waking  dream.  The  artistic  product  took  on  the  as¬ 
pect  of  reality,  so  spontaneously  did  it  grow  out  of  the  idea,  its  living 
germ.  Fancy  Bunyan  to  have  been  so  far  carried  away  in  composing 
the  allegory  of  Pilgrim's  Progress  that  his  tale  affected  him  as  if  it  were 
actual  history.  Something  like  this  state  of  mind  is  seriously  attrib¬ 
uted  by  Baur  to  the  author  of  the  fourth  Gospel.  In  this  way  the  con¬ 
clusion  that  the  work  is  a  fruit  of  wilful  imposture  was  escaped.  _Baur 
was  constrained  to  date  the  Gospel  as  late  as  160  or  ijo.  Otherwise 
leaps  would  be  requisite  in  the  room  of a "continuous  progress  of  his¬ 
toric  development.  He  had  great  capacity  as  a  critic,  but  he  was  under 
the  sway  of  a  theological  bias.  Hence  his  fabric  as  a  whole,  notwith¬ 
standing  much  that  was  admirable  in  parts,  was  built  upon  the  sand. 
The  main  postulate  of  his  system  is  practically  without  adherents. 
Neither  John  nor  Peter  was  a  judaizer.  Neither  demanded  that  Gen¬ 
tile  converts  should  be  circumcised.  There  was  no  such  cleft  in  the 
Church,  no  such  warfare  of  parties,  as  Baur  assumed  to  exist.  There 
was  no  rupture  to  call  for  a  series  of  doctrinal  efforts  at  compromise 
such  as  were  said  to  have  been  the  motive  of  several  of  the  New  Tes- 


TIIE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL 


249 

tament  writings.  The  proposition  that  the  primitive  type  of  Christian¬ 
ity  was  Ebionitic  is  an  historical  mistake. 

At  present  so  late  a  date  as  Baur  assigned  for  the  composition 
of  the  fourth  Gospel  meets  with  no  favor.  Among  the  critics  who 
do  not  accept  the  Johannean  authorship  there  has  been  a  pretty 
steady  retreat  from  one  historic  decade  to  another.  Zeller  fixed 
the  date  at  150,  Hilgenfeld  at  140,  Keim  at  130,  Renan  and 
Schenkel  from  no  to  115.  Lfiditfoot’s  prediction  that  the  time 
would  come  when  it  would  be  deemed  discreditable  in  any  critic 
“  to  assign  the  Gospel  to  any  later  date  than  the  end  of  the  first 
century  or  the  very  beginning  of  the  second  ”  is  well-nigh  fulfilled.! 
“Between  95  and  115,”  is  the  conjecture  of  Moffatt.1  Professor- 
McGiffert  holds  that  the  Gospel,  in  case  it  was  not  written  by  the 
apostle,  must  be  pushed  “  back  as  far  as  the  early  years  ”  of  the 
second  century.2  Harnack,  who  has  few  peers  in  ability  and 
learning,  puts  it  as  far  back  as  from  80  to  no.  But  this  recession 
must  be  admitted  to  carry  in  it  the  danger  of  shipwreck  for  the 
theory  of  non-apostolic  authorship  in  all  its  phases.  Either  of  the 
new  dates  brings  the  time  of  composition  into  perilous  nearness  to 
the  living  apostle  himself,  unless  we  reject  ancient  and  well- 
accredited  tradition  that  he  lived  down  to  the  reign  of  Trajan 
(a.d.  98).  Keim  met  the  exigency  thus  arising  by  casting  overboard 
the  universal  tradition  of  the  abode  of  the  apostle  at  Ephesus. 
This  intrepid  scepticism  was  withstood  by  Hilgenfeld  and  other 
representatives  of  the  Tubingen  criticism,  and  among  others,  by 
one  of  the  ablest  of  the  advocates  of  the  non-apostolic  authorship, 
Weizsacker.  A  chief  point  in  the  Tubingen  scepticism  had  been 
the  belief  that  the  Apocalypse  is  genuine,  and  is  incompatible  with 
the  Johannean  authorship  of  the  Gospel.  This  school  was  not 
disposed  to  surrender  its  conviction  that  the  apostle  lived  and 
taught  in  Asia  Minor. 

In  the  ensuing  pages  notice  will  be  frequently  taken  of  opinions 
of  Baur  on  the  Johannean  question,  for  the  reason  that,  notwith¬ 
standing  a  prevalent  dissent  from  so  much  that  he  contended  for, 
his  special  judgments  and  interpretations  frequently  reappear  in 
critical  discussions.3 

1  Historical  N.  T.,  p.  495.  2  Apostolic  Age ,  p.  614. 

3  Jiilicher,  one  of  the  more  extreme  of  the  recent  German  critics,  calls  the 
fourth  Gospel  “a  philosophical  fiction”  (“  eine  philosophische  Dichtung”). 
Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  p.  258. 


250  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


As  regards  the  use  of  the  Gospel  by  particular  writers  in  the 
second  century,  if  students  would  remember  how  scanty  often  are 
the  early  references  to  ancient  classical  writers  of  celebrity,  they 
would  be  less  sceptical  and  less  exacting  in  relation  to  the  princi¬ 
pal  New  Testament  writings,  and  would  be  more  impressed  by  the 
strength  of  the  attestation  furnished  us  of  their  genuineness.  „Ap- 
pian,  a  very  eminent  man,  published  his  Roman  History  about 
a.d.  150.  The  first  reference  to  it  in  literature  is  in  the^  sixth 
century. 1  Keim  conceded  that  the  fourth  Gospel  was  among  the 
gospels  known  to  Marcion,  that  Justin  Martyr  has  quotations  from 
it,  that  it  antedated  the  Epistle  of  Barnabas  and  the  Ignatian 
epistles,  and  that  its  use  is  manifest  in  the  extant  literature  of  the 
Church  as  early  as  the  use  of  the  first  three  Gospels.2  Mangold 
went  almost  as  far.  He  candidly  avowed  that  there  is  no  defect 
in  the  external  evidence.3  In  the  brief  survey  of  the  evidence 
which  is  to  follow,  it  will  be  taken  for  granted  that  the  Gospel  and 
the  first  Epistle  are  from  the  same  pen.  Baur  and  Hilgenfeld 
maintained  the  negative ;  but  the  dissent  of  these  critics  from  one 
another  on  the  question,  which  was  the  prior  work  and  which  the 
later,  is  an  argument  for  the  identity  of  authorship,  —  an  opinion 
which  is  supported  as  well  by  convincing  internal  evidence  as  by 
the  uniform  tradition. 

We  begin  with  a  notice  of  the  early  historic  testimonies.  Euse¬ 
bius,  in  the  first  quarter  of  the  fourth  century,  having  in  his  hands 
much  of  the  earliest  Christian  literature  which  has  perished  in  the 
shipwreck  that  befell  ancient  writings,  knew  of  no  dispute  respect¬ 
ing  the  origin  of  this  Gospel.  It  stands  on  his  list  of  Homolo- 
gonmena  —  New  Testament  books  universally  accepted.4  It  is  in 
the  Ancient  Syriac  version,  and  in  the  Old  Latin  version  of  North 
Africa  —  documents  not  later  than  the  end  of  the  second  century. 
Origen,  one  of  the  most  erudite  of  scholars,  whose  birth  (from 
Christian  parents)  took  place  within  the  limits  of  the  second  cen¬ 
tury  (in  185),  counts  it  among  the  Gospels  “not  disputed  in  the 
church  under  the  whole  heaven.”5  Clement  of  Alexandria,  in 
consonance  with  Irenseus,  his  contemporary,  relates  what  he  had 
heard  from  the  oldest  presbyters.  John,  he  says,  wrote  a  “  spir- 

1  White,  Translation  of  Appian,  Preface,  p.  3. 

2  Geschichte  Jesn,  i.  137. 

3  Mangold-Bleek,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.  (ed.  3),  p.  281,  n. 

4  H.  E.,  vi.  25.  6  Eusebius,  //.  E.,  vi.  25. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL 


251 


itual  Gospel,”  being  prompted  thereto  by  his  friends  and  impelled 
by  the  Spirit.1  The  Muratorian  Fragment  gives  with  more  detail 
a  tradition  of  like  purport.  The  apostle  had  been  exhorted  to 
write,  it  tells  us,  by  his  fellow-disciples  and  bishops.  In  Justin 
Martyr  we  find  passages  which  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  probable 
that  he  found  in  this  Gospel.  From  no  other  authority  could  he 
have  derived  his  doctrine  of  the  person  of  Christ.2  It  formed 
one  of  the  four  Gospels  amalgamated  in  the  Diatessaron  of  Tatian, 
who  was  Justin’s  pupil.3  Theophilus,  a  contemporary  of  Tatian, 
who  became  Bishop  of  Antioch,  a.d.  169,  describes  the  fourth 
Gospel  as  one  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  John  as  guided  by  the 
Holy  Spirit.4  He  wrote  a  commentary  on  the  Gospels,  and  in  a 
way  combined  the  four  in  a  single  work.5  Athenagoras,  a  con¬ 
temporary  of  Theophilus,  speaks  of  Christ  in  terms  which  are 
obviously  founded  on  passages  in  this  Gospel.6  Melito,  Bishop 
of  Sardis,  a  contemporary  of  Polycarp  and  of  Papias,  referred  to 
the  ministry  of  Jesus  as  lasting  for  three  years  —  a  fact  for  which 
his  authority  could  hardly  have  been  any  other  than  the  fourth 
Gospel.7  Another  contemporary,  Apollinaris,  Bishop  of  Hierapolis, 
indirectly  but  manifestly  implies  its  existence  and  authority.8 
Celsus,  the  most  noted  of  the  literary  opponents  of  Christianity  in 
the  second  century,  resorted  to  the  fourth  Gospel,  as  well  as  to 
the  first  three,  to  get  materials  for  his  polemic.9  There  is  some 

1  Eusebius,  H.  E.,  vi.  14. 

2  See  this  work,  p.  214.  Professor  Ezra  Abbot,  in  his  Essay  on  The 
Authorship  of  the  Fourth  Gospel  ( Critical  Essays,  pp.  9-107),  comes  as  near 
to  a  demonstration  of  its  use  by  Justin  as  the  nature  of  this  species  of  evidence 
permits.  See  pp.  22  seq.,  63  seq.,  with  the  notes.  He  shows  that  the  inac¬ 
curacy  in  Justin’s  quotation  of  John  iii.  3  occurs,  e.g.,  repeatedly  in  Jeremy 
Taylor. 

8  Ibid.,  p.  54  seq.  “  Justin,  his  [Papias’s]  younger  contemporary  .  .  .  em¬ 
ploys  our  four  Gospels  as  directly  or  indirectly  apostolic.  Occasionally  he 
takes  up  an  uncanonical  tradition.  .  .  .  The  fragment  of  the  Gospel  of  Peter 
(100-130  a.d.)  dispelled  all  theories  which  made  this  the  source  of  Justin’s 
quotations,  and  identified  it  with  his  Memoirs  of  Peter  ( i.e .  Mark).  .  .  .  Cas- 
cara’s  publication  forever  settled  all  questions  as  to  which  four  had  been  thus 
employed,  and  showed  their  relative  standing.”  B.  W.  Bacon,  An  Introdtic- 
tion  to  the  N.  T.,  pp.  45,  46. 

4  Ad  Autolicum,  ii.  22.  5  Hieron.,  De  Viris  illustr.,  25  ;  Epp.,  151. 

6  Stippl.  pro  Christanis ,  c.  10. 

7  See  Otto’s  Corpus  Apol. ,  t.  ix.  p.  416. 

8  Chron.  Pasch.,  pp.  13,  14. 


9  See  above,  p.  226. 


252  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


reason  to  think  that  it  was  used  by  Hermas  and  perhaps  some 
traces,  though  less  distinct,  of  its  use  are  in  the  Epistle  ascribed 
to  Barnabas.1 2  Polycarp,  in  addition  to  the  proof  of  his  use  of  the 
Gospel,  which  is  to  be  inferred  from  what  we  learn  of  him  from 
Irenseus,  inserts  into  his  own  short  Epistle  to  the  Philippians  a 
passage  which  is  found  in  no  other  book  but  the  first  Epistle  of 
John.3  As  to  Papias,  there  is  not  the  least  evidence  to  disprove 
his  acquaintance  with  the  fourth  Gospel ;  for  the  silence  of  Euse¬ 
bius  on  this  topic  affords  not  the  faintest  presumption  that  Papias 
made  no  mention  of  it.4  But  Eusebius  does  expressly  state  that 
Papias  used  the  first  Epistle  of  John,5  which  is  evidently  from  the 
same  author  as  the  Gospel6  —  this  Epistle  being  one  of  the  Catholic 
Epistles  the  use  of  which  by  the  early  writers  was  a  point  which  Euse¬ 
bius  was  interested  to  record.7  The  testimony  of  Irenseus  has  already 
been  adduced.  He  cites  from  “  elders,”  venerated  persons,  the 
contemporaries  of  Papias,  an  interpretation  of  the  words  of  Christ 
in  John  xiv.  2,  and  attributes  to  these  worthies  an  idea  relative  to 
the  length  of  the  Saviour’s  ministry,  which  was  suggested  by  a 
misinterpretation  of  John  viii.  5  7. 8  These  testimonies  traverse 
the  century.  They  carry  us  back  to  the  lifetime  of  contempo¬ 
raries  and  disciples  of  John.  Finally,  appended  to  the  Gospel 
itself  is  the  endorsement,  which  comes  from  those  into  whose 
hands  it  was  first  given  (John  xxi.  24),  and  which  without  doubt 

1  Simil.,  ix.  12;  cf.  John  x.  7,  9,  xix.  6  ;  Aland.,  xii.  3  ;  cf.  1  John  v.  3. 
The  argument  of  Dr.  C.  Taylor,  Witness  to  the  Four  Gospels  (1892),  is  not 
void  of  weight. 

2  Keim  takes  the  affirmative ;  but  see  Luthardt,  p.  76  ;  Sanday,  Gospels  in 
the  Second  Century ,  pp.  270-273  ;  Cunningham,  Dissert,  on  the  Ep.  of  Barna¬ 
bas,  etc.,  p.  60. 

3  Ad  Phil.,  5. 

4  See  Lightfoot,  Essays  on  Supernatural  Religion,  p.  32  seq.  The  chapter 
of  Lightfoot  on  “  The  Silence  of  Eusebius  ”  sweeps  away  numerous  false 
inferences,  which  are  current,  of  a  piece  with  that  concerning  Papias. 

5  Eusebius,  H.  E.,  iii.  39. 

6  “  No  two  works  in  the  whole  range  of  literature  show  clearer  signs  of 
the  genius  of  one  writer,  and  no  other  pair  of  works  are  so  completely  in  a 
class  by  themselves,  apart  from  the  work  of  their  own  and  of  every  other 
time.”  Ramsay,  The  Church  in  the  Roman  Empire ,  p.  302. 

7  The  Didache  (cc.  ix.  x.)  contains  passages  of  a  Johannine  cast,  prob¬ 
ably  based  on  the  Gospel.  The  special  arguments  of  Resch  are  deserving  of 
attention.  See  Appendix,  Note  13. 

8  Adv.  Hcer.,  v.  36,  2,  ii.  22,  5. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  253 

refers  to  John  the  apostle.  There  is  no  pretence  that  it  was 
forged. 

We  have  still  to  glance  at  the  evidence  afforded  by  the  parties 
without  the  pale  of  the  Church.  Tertullian  distinctly  implies  that 
Marciorx,  (a.d.  140)  was  acquainted  with  John’s  Gospel,  but  dis¬ 
carded  it  because  he  would  acknowledge  no  other  of  the  apostles 
than  Paul.1  We  have  little  direct  information  respecting  the  canon 
of  the  Montanists,  but  unquestionably  their  doctrine  sprang  partly 
from  what  they  read  of  the  Paraclete  in  the  fourth  Gospel.  The 
Basilidians  and  the  Valentinians,  gnostic  sects  which  arose  in  the 
second  quarter  of  the  second  century,  made  use  of  it ;  the  Valen¬ 
tinians,  Irenseus  tells  us,  made  abundant  use  of  it.  They  sought  to 
bolster  up  their  opinions  by  a  misinterpretation  of  its  contents.2 
Heracleon,  a  follower  of  Valentinus,  wrote  a  commentary  upon  it, 
from  which  Origen  quotes  largely.3  Tertullian  explicitly  says  that 
Valentinus  himself  used  all  of  the  four  Gospels.4  Irenseus  nowhere 
implies  the  contrary.  So  far  from  this,  a  study  of  the  context 
shows  that  Valentinus  is  not  of  the  class  who  rejected  any  of  the 
four.  There  is  little  room  for  doubting  that  Hippolytus,  a  pupil  of 
Irenseus,  derived  those  comments  upon  certain  places  in  the 
Gospel  which  he  quotes,  from  Valentinus  himself,  and  not  from  a 
disciple  of  his.  There  is  no  pretext  for  such  a  doubt  concerning 
his  references  to  Basilides.5  Basilides  flourished  under  Hadrian 
(a.d.  117-138).  Valentinus  came  to  Rome  about  a.d.  140. 
Heracleon  composed  his  commentary  about  a.d.  160.  In  the 
middle  of  the  second  century,  the  debate  was  carried  on  between 
the  Church  and  the  gnostic  heresiarchs.  Justin  shows  the  strongest 
antipathy  to  Marcion  and  his  followers,  the  Valentinians,  Basilidians, 
and  the  sect  of  Saturninus.6  Their  doctrines  he  denounces  as 
blasphemous.  Now  all  of  these  parties  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
stanch  defenders  of  orthodoxy  on  the  other,  accept  in  common 
the  fourth  Gospel.  The  Gnostics  did  not  dispute  its  apostolic 

1  Adv.  Marcion ,  iv.  3,  cf.  c.  2  ;  De  Carne  Christi,  c.  3. 

2  Adv.  Hcer.,  iii.  2,  7. 

3  For  Origen’s  references,  see  Grabe,  Spicilegium ,  vol.  ii.,  or  Stieren’s  ed. 
of  Irenseus,  i.  938-971,  c.  38. 

4  Tertullian,  De  Prcescriptione  Hcerret.  For  the  sense  of  videtur  in  the 
passage,  see  this  work,  p.  208. 

5  Hippolytus,  Ref.  omn.  Hcer.,  vi.  30,  vii.  22,  27.  See  Prof.  E.  Abbot, 
Critical  Essays,  p.  85  ;  J.  Drummond,  Journ.  Bibl.  Lit.  (1892),  pp.  1 33—1 59. 

6  Dial.,  c.  35  ;  cf.  Apol. ,  i.  26. 


254  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


authorship,  but  resorted  to  artificial  interpretation  of  its  contents. 
The  church  teachers  in  confuting  them  had  no  heavier  task  than 
to  expose  the  fantastic  character  of  their  exegesis.  The  Gnostics, 
however,  made  so  much  of  the  Gospel,  and  turned  it  to  such  a 
use,  that  had  there  been  a  plausible  pretext  for  doubting  its  apos¬ 
tolic  authorship,  the  temptation  to  do  so  would  have  been  very 
strong.  The  beginnings  of  the  Gnostic  controversy  are  as  early 
as  the  Apocalypse,  the  Pastoral  Epistles,  and  the  Epistle  to  the 
Colossians.  Who  was  ingenious  enough  to  frame  a  book  of  such 
a  character  as  to  suit  both  the  contending  parties?  If  the  author 
of  the  work  was  known  to  have  been  an  apostle,  no  explana¬ 
tion  is  called  for,  inasmuch  as  the  Gnostics,  Marcion  excepted, 
did  not  profess  to  set  aside  the  authority  of  the  apostles.1 

Mention  has  been  made  of  the  contention  of  Keim,  that  the 
ancient  ecclesiastical  writers  —  we  might  say,  all  antiquity  —  made 
the  mistake  of  confounding  the  apostle  John  with  another  person 
of  the  same  name,  “John,  the  Presbyter.”  This  supposition  is 
entitled  to  attention,  chiefly  for  the  reason  that  it  has  received 
some  countenance  from  so  eminent  a  scholar  as  Harnack.2  It  has 
to  meet  a  formidable  obstacle  which  it  would  require  very  definite 
proof  to  sustain,  in  the  testimony  of  Irenaeus.  Of  especial  inter¬ 
est  is  the  letter  of  Irenaeus  to  one  Florinus,  whom  he  in  his  youth 
had  personally  known,  but  who  had  embraced  heretical  opinions. 
The  letter  dwells  on  the  acquaintance  which  both  had  had  with 
Polycarp,  Bishop  of  Smyrna,  who  died  as  a  martyr  in  155  or  156, 
at  the  age  of  eighty-six.  The  letter  reads  as  follows  :  — 

“  I  saw  thee  when  I  was  still  a  boy,  in  Lower  Asia  in  company  with 
Polycarp,  while  thou  wast  faring  prosperously  in  the  royal  court,  and 

1  In  the  power  of  realizing  the  situation  and  its  possibilities,  in  the  epoch 
adverted  to,  no  scholar  in  Church  History  excels  Neander.  In  a  passage  in 
his  Life  of  fesus ,  he  gives  in  forcible  terms  his  judgment  on  the  question  here 
considered.  See  Appendix,  Note  14. 

2  It  should  be  stated  that  Harnack,  as  might  be  expected,  is  not  insensible 
to  the  difficulties  that  beset  this  hypothesis,  even  when  the  one  fact,  which  is 
allowed  to  admit  of  no  question,  is  considered,  that  “  at  the  end  of  the  second 
century,  not  Irenaeus  alone,  but  the  ‘  Asia  Minor  Christians  ’  [“  Kleinasiaten  ”] 
generally  held  John,  the  son  of  Zebedee,  to  be  the  author  of  the  Gospel.”  Die 
Chronologie  d.  altchristl.  Lit.,  i.  668.  But  the  suggestion  is  risked  that  the 
story  of  the  identity  of  this  author  with  John  the  apostle  was  started  and 
spread  by  Presbyters  at  Ephesus.  Lbid.,  pp.  679,  680. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL 


255 


endeavoring  to  stand  well  with  him.  For  I  distinctly  remember  the 
incidents  of  that  time  better  than  events  of  recent  occurrence  ;  for  the 
lessons  received  in  childhood,  growing  with  the  growth  of  the  soul, 
become  identified  with  it ;  so  that  I  can  describe  the  very  place  in 
which  the  blessed  Polycarp  used  to  sit  when  he  discoursed,  and  his 
goings  out  and  his  comings  in,  and  his  manner  of  life  and  his  personal 
appearance,  and  the  discourses  which  he  held  before  the  people,  and 
how  he  would  describe  his  intercourse  with  John,  and  with  the  rest  who 
had  seen  the  Lord,  and  how  he  would  relate  their  words.  And  what¬ 
soever  things  he  had  heard  from  them  about  the  Lord,  and  about  his 
miracles,  and  about  his  teaching,  as  having  received  them  from  eye¬ 
witnesses  of  the  life  of  the  Word,  he  would  relate  altogether  in  accordance 
with  the  scriptures.  To  these  [discourses]  I  used  to  listen  at  the  time 
with  attention  by  God’s  mercy  which  was  bestowed  upon  me,  noting 
them  down,  not  on  paper  but  in  my  heart ;  and  by  the  grace  of  God,  I 
constantly  ruminate  upon  them  faithfully.”  1 

Exactly  how  old  Irenaeus  was  at  the  time  to  which  these  reminis¬ 
cences  refer,  we  do  not  know.  The  Greek  word  for  boy  (7rai?)  is 
a  term  which  admits  of  the  supposition  that  he  was  not  less  than 
eighteen  or  twenty.  The  Greek  for  “  our  first  youth,”  an  expression 
of  Irenaeus  in  another  place,  frequently  signifies  “  manhood,”  and 
would  not  be  out  of  place  if  he  had  reached  that  period  of  life. 
It  is  a  safe  conclusion,  from  all  the  evidence,  that  his  birth  occurred 
as  early  as  130.2  Even  if  it  be  assumed  that  at  the  time  referred  to 
he  was  not  more  than  fifteen  years  old,  the  material  point  is  that 
his  recollection  of  the  circumstances  mentioned  in  the  letter  was 
perfectly  distinct.  That  by  the  “John  ”  to  whom  Polycarp  referred, 
Irenaeus  understood  the  apostle  of  that  name,  —  the  same  to  whom 
he  and  his  contemporaries  attributed  the  authorship  of  the  fourth 
Gospel,  —  no  one  doubts. 

The  new  hypothesis  to  account  for  the  ascription  of  the  author¬ 
ship  of  the  fourth  Gospel  to  the  apostle  John  is  that  Irenaeus 
misunderstood  Polycarp ;  that  he  was  really  speaking  of  another 
Ephesian  of  the  same  name,  and  that  in  the  second  century  the 
two  Johns  came  to  be  confounded.  Papias,  among  his  sources  of 
information  of  which  he  makes  mention  in  the  passage  cited  by 
Eusebius,  names  John  the  apostle,  and  then,  a  little  later,  two 
“  disciples  of  the  Lord,”  Aristion  and  the  “  Presbyter  [or  Elder] 

1  Lightfoot’s  translation,  Essays  on  Supernatural  Religion ,  p.  96. 

2  Zahn  would  place  it  as  early  as  115. 


256  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

John.”  It  is  possible  that  Papias,  perhaps  from  inadvertence, 
mentions  the  apostle  twice  —  the  prefix  in  the  last  instance  not 
being  an  official  title,  but  used,  as  it  often  was,  to  signify  the 
veneration  in  which  a  Christian  worthy  was  held.  Such  is  the 
opinion  of  some  scholars  deserving  of  high  respect.  But  the  more 
probable,  as  it  is  the  more  common  opinion,  is  that  a  second  John 
is  meant,  and  that  “  Elder  ”  is  used  by  Papias  as  a  designation  of 
the  office  held  by  him  in  the  Church.  In  this  case  the  question 
is,  was  Polycarp  talking  not  of  the  apostle,  as  Irenaeus  without  a 
shadow  of  doubt  supposed,  but  of  this  “Elder”?  Can  this  be 
believed  ?  Even  if  Irenaeus  was  a  boy  of  fifteen,  it  is  clear  that 
his  attention  had  been  riveted  on  the  declarations  of  Polycarp. 
They  were  of  absorbing  interest  to  him.  His  recollection  of  them 
was  too  vivid  to  be  inexact.  Polycarp’s  “manner  of  life,”  “his 
personal  appearance,”  the  “  place  where  he  used  to  sit,”  were 
stamped  upon  his  memory.  It  was  not  a  single  interview  that  he 
remembered.  “I  used  to  listen,”  “where  Polycarp  used  to  sit,” 
“how  he  would  describe  his  intercourse  with  John  and  with  the 
rest  who  had  seen  the  Lord,  and  how  he  would  relate  their  words  ” 
—  these  are  the  terms  in  which  the  eager  and  admiring  pupil 
described  his  teacher.  It  is  not  formal  addresses  like  modern 
sermons  that  Irenaeus  speaks  of.  Polycarp  told  those  who  gath¬ 
ered  about  him  what  he  had  heard  from  John  and  from  “  the  rest 
who  had  seen  the  Lord,”  “about  the  Lord,”  “his  miracles  and 
his  teachings.”  “  There  must  have  been,”  as  Professor  Gwatkin 
observes,  “  a  great  difference  in  the  stories  themselves,  and  cer¬ 
tainly  in  the  telling  of  them,  between  the  Lord’s  own  apostle  and 
the  Elder  John  who  did  not  belong  to  the  inner  circle  of  his  disci¬ 
ples.”1  It  is  a  large  tax  upon  credulity  when  we  are  invited  to 
believe  that  Polycarp,  all  this  while,  was  talking  of  some  other 
John  than  the  apostle.  Even  were  it  supposable  that  Irenaeus 
himself  misapprehended  Polycarp  to  this  extent,  were  there  no 
other  listeners  about  him  among  his  acquaintance  to  set  him 
right?  Were  there  none,  in  the  East  or  the  West,  in  all  the  years 
that  followed,  to  open  his  eyes  to  so  egregious  an  error?  There, 
for  example,  was  Pothinus,  with  whom  at  Lyons  Irenaeus  was 
associated  as  a  presbyter,  and  whom,  on  his  death  in  177,  at  the 

1  Gwatkin,  “  Irenceus  on  the  Fourth  Gospel,”  The  Contemporary  Review , 

vol.  71  (1897,  !•)>  P*  226* 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL 


257 


age  of  ninety,  Irenaeus  succeeded  in  the  episcopal  office.1  Harnack 
does  not  question  the  fact  that  Irenaeus  knew  nothing  of  any 
other  John  in  Asia  but  John  the  apostle.2  The  confusion  of 
names  in  the  case  of  Philip  the  apostle  and  Philip  the  evangelist, 
in  which  Eusebius  shared,  furnishes  no  parallel  to  such  an  error 
on  the  part  of  Irenaeus.3 

But  what  is  known  of  the  “  Presbyter  ”  John?  He  is  apparently 
a  much  more  notable  person  in  the  German  criticism  of  the  present 
day  than  he  was  in  his  own  time  or  later. 

As  we  have  said,  he  is  probably  on  the  list  which  Papias  gives  of  his 
informants  respecting  apostolic  times.  Later  in  the  century,  Clement 
of  Alexandria  and  Polycrates,  Bishop  of  Ephesus,  like  Irenaeus,  knew 
nothing  of  such  a  person.4  About  250,  Dionysius,  Bishop  of  Alexandria, 
hazards  the  conjecture  that  the  Apocalypse  —  a  book  which  he  regarded 
with  great  disfavor  on  account  of  its  teaching,  or  what  he  took  to  be 
such,  on  the  millennium  —  was  written  by  another  of  the  same  name  as 
the  apostle.  He  has  no  other  reason  for  this  surmise  except  that  he 
had  heard  of  there  being  two  tombs  at  Ephesus,  each  having  the  name 

1  Irenaeus  is  not  free  from  inaccuracies  in  his  references  to  traditions.  It 
is  a  rash  and  false  inference  which  imputes  to  him  in  general  a  want  of  trust¬ 
worthiness.  The  most  noteworthy  instance  of  error  is  in  the  passage  in 
which  he  says  that  the  ministry  of  Jesus  did  not  terminate  until  he  was  forty 
years  old.  Probably  this  idea  was  mistakenly  deduced  from  John  viii.  58, 
“  Thou  art  not  yet  fifty  years  old,”  etc.  This  chronological  supposition  was 
not  unlikely  at  the  basis  of  the  statement  of  the  “  elders,”  to  which  Irenaeus 
refers  in  support  of  it.  However  improbable,  it  was  not  an  impossible  im¬ 
pression,  for  nothing  in  John’s  Gospel  definitely  excludes  it.  The  phrase  “  all 
the  elders  ”  may  be  an  overstatement.  See  on  this  case  of  inaccuracy,  Light- 
foot,  Essays  on  Stipernatural  Religion ,  p.  246.  On  the  loose  and  exaggerated 
charges  of  inaccuracy  against  the  Fathers  generally,  see,  also,  Lightfoot’s 
protest  and  the  proofs  brought  forward  by  him,  especially  the  comparison  of 
the  Fathers  in  this  respect  with  Tacitus  and  other  contemporary  classical 
authors.  Ibid.,  p.  268.  Other'references  to  the  life  of  John  are  in  Irenaeus, 
iii.  3,  4,  ii.  2,  5,  iii.  3,4. 

Reville,  Quatrieme  &vangile,  etc.  (1901),  p.  13,  says  of  the  Letter  of 
Irenaeus  to  Florinus,  “We  see  that  the  apologetic  prepossession  (preoccupa¬ 
tion)  never  leaves  him.”  He  is  credited  by  Reville  with  being  concerned,  in 
order  to  save  Florinus  and  others  from  heresy,  to  make  it  out  that  he  has 
known  in  his  childhood  some  one  who  knew  the  apostles,  etc.  Few 
students  of  Irenaeus  need  any  answer  to  this  imputation. 

2  Chronologic,  etc.,  p.  673. 

3  See  what  is  said  of  Polycrates  above,  p.  26. 

4  “  Sie  von  einem  anderen  Johannes  in  Asien  nichts  wissen.”  So  Har¬ 
nack,  Chronologie ,  i.  p.  673. 

s 


258  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


“John”  inscribed  on  it.1  Of  course  there  might  have  been  two  distinct 
monuments  of  the  apostle  in  different  parts  of  the  city  or  the  suburbs. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  Dionysius  says  nothing  of  the  “Presbyter”  John, 
whom  he  would  not  have  omitted  to  mention  here  had  he  ever  heard 
of  him.  Nor,  with  the  sole  exception  noted  above,  is  there  a  hint  of 
his  existence  in  any  ecclesiastical  writer  prior  to  Eusebius  (about  325). 
And  even  what  Eusebius  has  to  say  of  him  is  probably  an  echo  of 
the  remark  of  Dionysius.  The  little  that  is  said  after  Papias  of 
the  possibility  of  a  second  John  at  Ephesus  springs  out  of  doctrinal 
objections  to  the  contents  of  the  book  of  Revelation.  If  the  “  Pres¬ 
byter”  John  was  a  person  of  so  high  consideration  as  it  must  be  pre¬ 
supposed  that  he  was,  in  case  he  was  known  to  be  the  author  of  the 
fourth  Gospel,  and  if  he  was  the  subject  of  detailed  reminiscences  in 
public  discourses  of  so  celebrated  a  man  as  Polycarp,  how  account  for 
the  well-nigh  universal  silence  respecting  him? 

If  it  was  of  the  “  Presbyter  ”  that  Polycarp  talked  in  public 
addresses,  at  least  there  must  have  been  numerous  hearers  who 
did  not  misunderstand  him.  We  must  not  forget  other  connec¬ 
tions  of  Irenaeus  with  this  venerated  martyr.  In  an  admonitory 
letter  of  Irenaeus  to  Victor,  Bishop  of  Rome,  he  referred  to  a 
visit  of  Polycarp  to  that  city  (a.d.  155),  and  to  the  appeal  which 
Polycarp  then  made  to  instruction  which  he  had  received  respect¬ 
ing  the  observance  of  Easter  from  John  and  other  apostles.2  If 
Irenaeus  erred  in  this  statement,  it  would  have  been  evident  at 
Rome,  where  the  occurrences  at  Polycarp’s  visit  would  be  remem¬ 
bered.  It  is  not  alone  from  Polycarp  directly  that  Irenaeus  was 
informed  of  his  recollections  of  John.  The  story  of  the  apostle’s 
meeting  the  heretic  Cerinthus  in  the  bath,  he  had  heard  from 
individuals  to  whom  Polycarp  had  related  it.3  Not  Polycarp  alone, 
but  other  “elders”  —  worthies  of  a  former  day  —  who  had  also 
known  John,  are  referred  to  by  Irenaeus.  Polycarp  was  not  the 
sole  link  connecting  him  with  the  apostle.  He  had  before  him 
the  work  of  Papias,  in  which,  if  anywhere,  the  apostle  was  distin¬ 
guished  from  the  presbyter  of  the  same  name.  Of  this  we  may 

1  Jerome  speaks  of  two  tombs  at  Ephesus,  each  inscribed  with  the  name 
of  John.  But  he  considers  them  both  memorials  of  the  apostle  ( De  Viris  III ., 
c.  9).  Says  Dr.  McGiffert,  “The  existence  of  two  such  memorials  in  Ephesus 
by  no  means  proves  that  more  than  one  John  was  buried  there.”  See  Dr. 
McGiffert’s  ed.  of  Eusebius,  iii.  39,  n.  13. 

2  Irenaeus,  ed.  Stieren,  Fra^menta,  iii.  p.  826. 

3  Ibid.,  Adv.  Hcer.,  iii.  3,  4. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL 


259 


be  sure  that  neither  Irenaeus  nor  Eusebius  found  anything  in  Papias 
not  consistent  with  the  apostolic  authorship  of  the  Gospel.  If 
Irenaeus  was  mistaken,  of  which  we  cannot  be  certain,  in  saying 
that  Papias  himself  had  been  taught  by  the  apostle,  this  will  not 
justify  the  imputing  to  him  of  a  like  mistake  respecting  Polycarp, 
with  whom  he  had  had  personal  intercourse  of  the  character 
described  by  him.1 

The  fact  of  the  residence  of  the  apostle  John  at  Ephesus,  and 
of  his  wide  influence  in  that  region,  is  not  open  to  reasonable 
doubt.  Renan  even  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  we  should  have  to 
suppose  a  falsehood  on  the  part  of  Irenaeus  if  we  held  that  John 
did  not  live  in  Asia.2  Other  witnesses  besides  Irenaeus  testify  to 

1  However  Weizsacker  errs  on  certain  points,  his  observations  on  the  sus¬ 
pected  confusion  of  names  and  on  other  connected  points  are  sound  and  con¬ 
vincing.  Between  the  case  of  Polycarp  and  Papias,  the  great  difference  lies 
here,  that  “  Irenaeus  nowhere  refers  to  information  which  he  had  received 
from  Papias.  To  infer  a  mistake  in  the  case  of  Polycarp  is  therefore  un¬ 
warranted.”  “That  Irenaeus  does  not  mention  the  other  John,  furnishes  no 
reason  for  thinking  that  he  confounded  him  with  the  apostle.  The  whole 
weight  which  Irenaeus  lays  upon  the  apostolic  character  of  his  John  contra¬ 
dicts  the  assumption.  Not  even  that  this  second  John  had  been  in  Ephesus 
has  an  older  witness  for  it.  From  the  words  of  Papias  we  find  that  he  [the 
second  John]  came  down  to  his  time  ;  from  which  it  follows  that  he  also  stood 
in  point  of  time  much  too  near  Irenaeus  to  render  it  possible  for  him  to  be 
confounded  by  him  with  the  apostle.”  Even  if  Papias  did  not  err  in  placing 
him  in  the  apostolic  instead  of  the  next  following  generation,  the  expla¬ 
nation  of  the  Johannean  writings  would  not  be  a  hair  easier  than  if  they 
came  from  the  apostle  John.  The  nail  is  too  weak  to  hang  upon  it  the 
whole  Johannean  tradition.  Weizsacker,  Das  Apostolisches  Zeitalter  (ed.  2), 
pp.  480-482. 

What  Eusebius  says  (iii.  39)  contains  no  proof  that  Papias  was  a  hearer  of 
the  Presbyter  John  or  of  Aristion.  What  Eusebius  here  says  in  one  sentence 
he  virtually  retracts  in  the  next.  The  language  in  the  quotation  of  Eusebius 
does  not  imply  that  Papias  had  personally  known  either  of  them. 

2  Les  Avangiles,  p.  425,  n.  2. 

The  attestation  of  Polycrates  (Eusebius,  H.  E.,  iii.  31)  is  thought  by  some 
to  be  weakened  in  value  by  a  confusion  of  names,  which  he  may  have  shared 
with  others,  in  regard  to  “  Philip,”  whom  he  refers  to  as  “  one  of  the  twelve 
apostles  who  sleeps  in  Hierapolis.”  The  broad  use  of  the  term  “  apostle,” 
coupled  with  the  fact  of  the  truly  apostolic  labors  of  the  Evangelist  of  this 
name,  might  naturally  give  rise  to  this  confusion,  in  which  even  Eusebius  and, 
later,  Augustine,  partake.  See  Hastings,  Dictionary  of  the  Bible ,  art. 
“  Philip  the  Apostle  ”  ;  McGiffert’s  ed.  of  Eusebius,  ad  loc.  That  it  was  the 
apostle  who  died  at  Hierapolis  is  the  opinion  of  Lightfoot  ( Colossians ,  p.  45  ; 
App.  Fathers ;  Ignatius,  i.  p.  422  ;  Colossians  (ed.  3,  1879),  p.  46).  The 


260  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


the  sojourn  of  the  apostle  there,  —  Apollonius  an  Asiatic  bishop 
and  an  early  writer ;  Polycrates,  who  was  born  as  early  as  a.d.  125, 
a  bishop  of  Ephesus,  seven  of  whose  relatives  had  also  been  bish¬ 
ops  ;  Clement  of  Alexandria,  who  relates  the  incident  —  whether 
it  be  true  or  not  is  now  immaterial  —  of  John’s  conversion  of  the 
apostate  youth  who  had  become  a  robber.1  Other  early  legends 
relating  to  the  apostle  imply  at  least  the  knowledge  that  he  had 
lived  at  Ephesus.  Justin  Martyr,  who  was  a  native  of  Palestine, 
was  acquainted  with  Christians  in  Asia  as  well  as  at  Rome.  We 
know  that  in  the  year  135  he  sojourned  at  Ephesus.  Now  Justin 
says  that  the  apostle  John  wrote  the  Apocalypse.  It  matters  not, 
as  concerns  the  question  now  before  us,  whether  in  that  particular 
he  was  correct  or  not.  It  is  certain,  from  its  contents  as  well  as 
from  the  tradition,  that  at  Ephesus  or  in  its  neighborhood  the  book 
of  Revelation  was  written.  This  book  was  undoubtedly  ascribed 
to  the  apostle.  It  would  not  have  been,  had  he  not  been  known  to 
have  lived  there.  Keim  is  one  of  the  critics  who  admit  that  the 
author  of  the  Gospel,  whoever  he  was,  proceeded  on  the  supposi¬ 
tion  that  John  had  lived  in  Asia  Minor ;  so  that  on  their  own  views 
of  the  date  of  the  Gospel,  early  in  the  second  century  the  belief 
must  have  prevailed  that  the  apostle  had  dwelt  there.  The  traces 
of  the  influence  of  John  in  Asia  were  distinct  and  permanent. 
There  was  in  reality,  as  Lightfoot  has  shown,  a  later  “  school  of 
John  ”  —  a  class  of  writers  coming  after  Polycarp  and  Papias,  and 
including  Melito  of  Sardis,  Claudius  Apollinaris,  and  Polycrates 
—  who  bear  incontestable  marks  of  the  peculiar  influence  of  the 
apostle’s  teaching.2  Weizsacker,  whose  critical  views  on  many 
important  points  are  opposed  to  those  of  Lightfoot,  is  equally 
impressed  with  the  proofs  of  a  prevalent  type  of  thought  traceable 
to  this  apostle.  He  dwells  on  the  variety  of  these  evidences  and 

name  of  Philip  is  in  the  list  of  apostles  in  the  fragment  of  Papias  (Eusebius, 
H.  E.,  iii.  39).  The  arguments  of  Lightfoot  appear  to  me  to  have  weight. 
But  whether  Polycrates  was  correct  or  not  in  this  designation,  Polycrates  was 
not  bishop  in  Phrygian  Hierapolis,  but  in  Ephesus,  and  had  exceptional  ad¬ 
vantages  for  being  familiar  with  the  main  facts  to  which  he  adverts.  If 
Philip  the  evangelist  was  a  personal  disciple  of  Christ,  —  and  there  is  noth¬ 
ing  in  Acts  to  preclude  this  supposition,  —  he  might  the  more  easily  have 
been  confounded  with  the  apostle  by  Polycrates  as  well  as  by  others.  See 
Zahn,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  ii.  p.  573  (n.  3). 

1  Eusebius,  //.  E.,  v.  18. 

2  Lightfoot,  Essays  on  Supernatural  Religion ,  vii. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  26 1 


on  the  personal  influence  of  the  apostle  which  they  presuppose.1 
Professor  Loofs,  a  learned  and  impartial  scholar,  speaking  of  the 
influence  of  the  Johannean  teaching,  says  :  — 

“  In  regard  to  scarcely  one  point  in  the  sphere  of  the  History  of 
Doctrine,  ought  the  Church  to  be  as  much  interested  as  in  this.  For 
here  is  presented  a  line  of  tradition  within  which  the  particulars,  charac¬ 
teristic  of  the  theology  of  a  Biblical  Book,  —  the  Gospel  which  Luther 
styled  ‘  the  unique,  tender,  principal  Gospel,’  —  manifest  their  influ¬ 
ence,  proceeding  from  a  definable  centre  and  source,  within  the  sphere 
of  the  History  of  Doctrine.  The  ‘  Introductions,’  to  be  sure,  which 
take  the  Fourth  Gospel  for  a  philosophical  after-birth  of  the  Evangelical 
literature,  are  fond  of  talking  of  the  scanty  traces  of  the  Gospel  of  John 
in  the  period  prior  to  150;  but  in  truth  there  is  no  Biblical  book  whose 
influence,  in  the  History  of  Doctrine,  can  be  traced  so  clearly  from  the 
time  of  its  composition,  as  that  of  the  Gospel  of  John.” 

Loofs  calls  attention  to  the  distinct  influence  of  the  Johannean 
conception  of  Christ  on  Ignatius,  in  connection  with  the  close 
relation  of  this  Father  to  Asia  Minor.2 

The  statements  of  Irenasus,  who  was  in  a  position  to  ascertain  the 
fact  respecting  the  prolonged  life  of  the  apostle,  are  confirmed  by  the 
traditions  incorporated  in  ancient  ecclesiastical  writers  to  which  refer¬ 
ence  has  been  made.  Clement’s  account  of  the  rescue  of  the  outlaw 
chief,  and  Jerome’s  interesting  narrative  of  the  aged  apostle’s  method 
of  addressing  his  flock,  indicate  a  general  belief  that  his  life  was  pro¬ 
tracted  to  extreme  old  age. 

The  circumstance  that  there  is  no  competing  tradition  as  to  the  place 
of  the  apostle  John’s  death  deserves  mention.  The  tradition  that  Peter, 
as  well  as  Paul,  died  at  Rome,  there  being  no  other  tradition  as  to  the 
place  of  Peter’s  death,  has  now  gained  acceptance.  In  the  case  of 

1  Apostolisches  Zeitalter  (ed.  2),  p.  482  seq.,  p.  538. 

2  Real.  Encycl.  d.  K.  u.  Theol.  (ed.  3),  iv.  29,  art.  “  Christologie.”  The 
Epistles  of  Ignatius  are  “saturated  with  Johannean  ideas  and  phrases.”  For 
some  examples,  see  A  Biblical  Introduction,  by  Bennett  and  Adeney,  p.  329, 
n.  4.  It  is  said  that  Ignatius,  writing  to  the  Ephesians,  mentions  the  apostle 
Paul  by  name  (c.  xii.),  but  not  the  apostle  John.  The  reason  is  plain.  It  is  in 
connection  with  his  own  foresight  of  martyrdom  that  he  is  reminded  of  Paul; 
John  died  in  old  age  and  in  peace.  In  the  preceding  chapter  (xi.),  Ignatius 
speaks  of  the  relation  of  the  Ephesian  Christians  to  “the  apostles”  in  the 
plural.  See  Lightfoot,  App.  Fathers ,  vol.  ii.  sect.  i.  p.  64,  vol.  i.  p.  390. 
Harnack  ( Chronologie ,  etc.,  p.  679,  n.)  considers  it  probable  (iiberwiegend 
wahrscheinlich)  that  Ignatius  has  in  mind  the  apostle  John  when  he  refers, 
in  his  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians,  to  their  association  with  apostles.  In  this 
Epistle,  c.  ix.,  the  passage  is  apparently  suggested  by  John  xii.  32. 


262  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


apostles  so  eminent  the  absence  of  rival  traditions  on  this  point  is  of 
weight. 

We  are  authorized  in  picturing  to  ourselves  the  apostle  John, 
near  the  close  of  the  first  century,  at  Ephesus,  a  flourishing  centre 
of  Christianity,  surrounded  by  disciples  whom  he  had  trained  — 
disciples  who,  in  common  with  the  churches  in  all  that  district, 
looked  up  to  him  with  affectionate  reverence.  We  must  bear  in 
mind  that  it  is  not  as  author  only,  conspicuous  as  that  function 
was,  that  the  ecclesiastical  tradition  concerning  John’s  abode  and 
ministry  in  Asia  was  connected.  Included  in  this  stream  of  tradi¬ 
tion  which  spread  far  and  wide  was  his  instrumentality  in  organ¬ 
izing  the  churches  in  that  region.  His  influence  was  operative 
toward  restoring  a  unity  in  the  Christian  societies  at  the  time  when 
Jerusalem  had  ceased  to  be  a  centre,  when  Judaism  was  an  im¬ 
placably  hostile  force,  and  the  apostle  Paul  was  no  more  among 
the  living.  If  the  apostle  John  did  not  write  the  Gospel  which 
bears  his  name,  how  did  those  Asian  disciples  and  churches  come 
to  believe  that  he  did  ?  How  did  all  the  churches  come  to  share 
in  the  belief? 

Many  of  John’s  disciples  must  have  been  living  at  the  time  when  the 
Gospel  is  admitted  to  have  been  in  circulation.  If  it  was  not  genuine, 
would  not  voices  have  been  raised  to  dispute  its  claims?  If  spurious, 
very  little  scrutiny  would  have  sufficed  to  detect  it.  Of  late,  the  micro¬ 
scopic  examination  of  particular  passages  in  the  Fathers,  and  prolonged 
comment  on  minor  points  of  evidence  about  which  debate  may  be 
started,  have  operated  to  spread  a  mist  over  the  more  comprehensive 
features  of  proof.  The  strength  of  the  external  argument  for  the  apos¬ 
tolic  authorship  of  the  Gospel  has  seldom  been  fully  appreciated  by 
believer  or  sceptic. 

| 

Thus  far  we  have  tarried  in  the  domain  of  external  evidence. 
But  the  twenty-first  chapter  is  evidently  an  appendix  which  follows 
the  termination  of  the  Gospel  in  the  last  verse  of  the  twentieth. 
Yet  it  contains  a  testimony  obviously  from  an  external  source, 
which,  however,  like  the  entire  chapter  which  contains  it,  has 
formed  a  part  of  the  Gospel  since  it  passed  out  of  the  hands  of 
the  intimate  disciples  of  John.  One  question  is  whether  this 
closing  chapter  was  a  later  addition  of  the  author  himself,  or  of 
these,  or  one  of  these,  near  associates.  The  twenty-third  verse, 
which  corrects  a  misinterpretation  of  words  spoken  by  Jesus  to 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  263 


Peter,  may  not  have  been  written  before  the  death  of  the  author 
of  the  Gospel,  yet  the  supposition  that  they  were  is,  perhaps, 
more  natural.  The  occurrence  of  the  words,  “  the  sons  of 
Zebedee  ”  (v.  2),  since  the  passage  is  in  a  list  of  apostles  who 
were  present  with  Jesus,  might  naturally  enough  come  from  the 
apostle  John.  The  testimony  referred  to  is  the  twenty-fourth 
verse,  “  This  is  the  disciple  which  beareth  witness  of  these  things 
and  wrote  these  things,  and  we  know  that  his  witness  is  true.” 
This  is  said  of  the  Gospel  that  precedes.  It  is  a  declaration 
which  means,  and  can  only  mean,  that  “  the  disciple  ”  —  a  desig¬ 
nation,  it  is  admitted  by  all,  of  John,  the  apostle  —  wrote  the  fourth 
Gospel.  The  author  of  this  statement  speaks  in  the  name  of  his 
fellow-disciples,  as  well  as  for  himself.  It  is  a  genuine  attestation 
which  owed  its  value  to  the  fact  that  its  authors  were  known  to 
those  who  read  it. 

It  behooves  us,  however,  further  to  inquire  whether  the  force  of 
the  testimony  for  the  apostolic  authorship  is  weakened  by  the  one 
instance  of  dissent  from  the  universal  belief —  the  dissent  of  the  so- 
called  “Alogi.”  This  term  is  a  nickname, coined  by  Hippolytus,orby 
Epiphanius,  and  is  used  by  him  in  his  descriptive  catalogue  of  here¬ 
sies,  great  and  small.1  The  word  might  mean  “averse  to  the  Logos,” 
or  it  might  signify  “  irrationals.”  It  was  invented  to  stigmatize  cer¬ 
tain  opponents  of  the  Johannean  authorship  of  the  fourth  Gospel 
in  Thyatira,  somewhere  about  150.  They  had  no  name,  and  were 
not  numerous  enough  or  important  enough  to  form  a  sect.  They 
were  prompted  to  their  denial  by  their  repugnance  to  the  Mon- 
tanist  enthusiasts,  in  particular  to  what  they  taught  respecting 
prophecy,  the  incarnate  manifestation  of  the  Paraclete,  revived 
miraculous  gifts  of  the  Spirit,  and  an  earthly  millennium  soon  to  be 
ushered  in  through  the  second  coming  of  Christ.  Their  critical 
objections  followed  in  aid  of  this  doctrinal  repugnance.  So  far 
as  appears,  they  did  not  deny  the  divinity  of  Christ.  It  is  not 
even  certain  that  they  rejected  the  Johannean  conception  of  the 
Logos.  But  they  discarded  both  the  Gospel  and  the  Apocalypse. 
From  the  way  in  which  Irenseus  refers  to  the  “  Alogi,”  it  is  evi¬ 
dent  that  he  looked  upon  them  as  a  handful  of  dissentients  whose 
departure  from  orthodox  tenets  was  in  the  particulars  named 
above.2  The  extreme  to  which  they  were  carried  in  their  hostility 

1  Adv.  Hcer 51.  2  Adv.  Hcer .,  iii.,  xi.  9. 


264  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


* 


I 

| 


to  the  tenets  of  the  Montanists,  who  appealed  to  the  promise  of 
the  Paraclete  in  the  Gospel,  naturally  engendered  an  opposition  to 
this  Gospel.  For  this  position  they  would  be  inclined  to  seek  for 
some  objective  grounds,  beyond  the  doctrinal  reason.1  Some  of 
them,  not  improbably,  made  their  way  to  Rome,  or  their  views  may 
have  become  known  there  through  writings.  A  lost  writing  of 
Hippolytus  in  defence  of  the  Gospel  and  the  Apocalypse  is  judged 
to  have  related  to  them.  Be  it  observed,  however,  that  in  the 
widespread  reaction  of  the  third  century  against  Chiliasm,  it  was 
not  the  apostolic  authorship  of  the  Gospel,  but  of  the  Apocalypse, 
that  was  antagonized.  It  appears  that  even  Caius,  an  “  ecclesias¬ 
tical  person  ”  at  Rome,  at  the  end  of  the  second  century,  did  not 
question  the  apostolic  authorship  of  the  Gospel.  It  was  not  ques¬ 
tioned  by  Dionysius,  Bishop  of  Alexandria,  a  half-century  later. 
The  point  of  chief  concern  is,  to  ascertain  what  positive  explana¬ 
tion  the  “  Alogi  ”  had  to  give  of  the  origin  of  the  fourth  Gospel. 
They  said  that  it  was  not  worthy  to  be,  or  to  be  recognized,  in 
the  Church.  This  implies  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  recog¬ 
nized  and  accepted.  Following  the  custom  of  imputing  unaccept¬ 
able  writings,  professing  to  be  apostolic,  to  heretics,  they  ascribed 
the  fourth  Gospel  to  Cerinthus  —  absurdly,  since  his  opinions 
were  the  reverse  of  its  teachings.  That  any  disciple  of  the 
apostle,  or  any  group  of  his  disciples,  was  its  author,  they  did  not 
so  much  as  conjecture.  In  the  mixed  system  of  Cerinthus,  the 
world  was  made  by  angels,  one  of  whom  gave  to  the  Jews  their 
law.  At  the  baptism  of  the  man  Jesus,  Christ  descended  upon 
him  from  above,  but  parted  with  him  prior  to  his  baptism.  With 
these  ideas  was  united  a  millenarian  tenet  of  a  materialistic  type.2 
Inasmuch  as  Cerinthus  was  known  to  be  a  contemporary  of  the 
apostle  John,  the  notion  of  the  Alogi  as  to  its  author  is  tanta¬ 
mount  to  a  concurrence  with  the  traditional  statement  as  to  its 
date.  It  shows,  moreover,  that  if  they  had  ever  heard  of  “  John 
the  Presbyter/’  it  did  not  so  much  as  occur  to  them  to  think  of 
him  as  possibly  the  author  of  this  Gospel. 


1  On  the  subject  of  the  Alogi  and  the  importance  to  be  attached  to  them, 
the  discussions  of  Theodore  Zahn  and  Harnack,  who  differ  widely  on  this  last 
point,  are  of  special  value.  See  Zahn,  Gesck.  d.  Kanons ,  i.  223-262,  ii.  977  ; 
Einl.  in  d.  N.  Test .,  ii.  447,  449,  46  seq.  Harnack,  Dogmengesch .,  i.  (ed.  3), 
p.  660  seq. ;  Real-Encycl.  d.  Theol.  u.  IE,  i.  p.  386  seq.,  art.  “  Aloger  ”  (by  Zahn). 

2  For  a  concise  sketch  of  the  opinions  of  Cerinthus,  see  Hort,  Judaistic 
Christianity ,  p.  190. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  265 


Zeller,  one  of  the  most  eminent  writers  of  the  school  of  Baur,  can¬ 
didly  remarks  that  the  protest  of  the  Alogi,  connected  as  it  was  with 
the  ascription  by  them  of  the  Gospel  to  Cerinthus,  does  not  indicate  the 
existence  of  any  other  tradition  respecting  its  origin  than  the  tradition 
established  in  the  Church.1  Irenaeus’s  notice  of  the  objection  made  by 
the  Alogi  to  the  apostolic  authorship  of  the  fourth  Gospel  makes  it 
evident  that  he  regarded  their  objection  as  unimportant.  Still,  had  it 
been  felt  that  there  was  reason  for  doubt  on  the  question,  their  asser¬ 
tion  would  have  been  likely  to  excite  a  ferment.  It  should  be  remem¬ 
bered  that  it  occurred  at  a  time  when  there  was  no  accepted  canon,  no 
commonly  recognized  collection  of  New  Testament  Scriptures.  Justin 
refers  to  the  Gospels  as  being  historical  authorities,  recognized  as  such 
by  the  churches.  The  reaction  against  the  excesses  of  millenarianism 
provoked  even  later  a  repudiation  of  the  Apocalypse,  which  was  not 
confined  to  an  insignificant  local  opposition. 

/  A  middle  theory  has  been  espoused  by  some,  namely,  that  dis¬ 
ciples  of  the  apostle  John  composed  the  Gospel  on  the  basis  of 
oral  instruction,  which  they  had  received  from  him.  Matthew 
Arnold  conjectured  that  the  Ephesian  Presbyters,  partly  on  the 
basis  of  materials  furnished  by  the  apostle,  were  the  authors  of 
the  book.2  Clement  of  Alexandria  reports  the  tradition  that  John 
wrote  at  the  urgent  request  of  familiar  friends.  'The  Muratorian 
Fragment  makes  a  like  statement,  with  the  additional  circumstance 
of  a  revelation  to  Andrew,  to  the  effect  that  John  “should  write 
down  everything  and  all  should  certify.” 3  Weizsacker  has  advo¬ 
cated  the  opinion  that  the  Gospel  was  written  by  a  disciple  of  the 
apostle,  on  the  basis  of  Johannean  traditions.  There  is  no  pa¬ 
tristic  support  for  such  an  hypothesis.  It  has  to  confront,  first, 
testimony,  respecting  the  authorship  of  the  book,  that  the 
writer  himself  gives,  which  will  soon  be  adverted  to ;  and,  sec¬ 
ondly,  the  direct  testimony,  evidently  proceeding  from  the  disci¬ 
ples  of  the  apostle  (John  xxi.  24).4 

1  Theol.  Jahrbb .,  1845,  P-  ^45* 

2  God  and  the  Bible ,  p.  248. 

3  Mr.  Arnold  renders  the  word  recognoscentibus  “  revise.”  This  is  a  possi¬ 
ble,  but  not  the  usual,  meaning  of  the  word.  It  signifies  “  to  inspect,”  “  to 
examine ’’with  a  view  to  approval,  hence  “to  indorse”  or  “authenticate.” 
This  appears  to  be  its  meaning  in  the  document  referred  to. 

4  Harnack  ( Chronologie ,  etc.,  pp.  676,  677)  speaks  of  verse  24  as  the  offi¬ 
cious  or  uncalled-for  testimony  (unberufenes  Zeugniss)  attached  to  the  Gos¬ 
pel.  Yet  as  to  its  first  part,  the  “bearing  witness  to  these  things”  by  the 
apostle  John,  he  holds  that  there  is  a  measure  of  truth  in  the  statement.  Yet 


266  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


Notice  must  likewise  be  taken  of  the  hypothesis  of  a  partition 
of  the  Gospel  between  two  distinct  authors,  the  record  of  the  dis¬ 
courses  being  ascribed  to  one,  and  the  record  of  the  historical 
occurrences  to  another.1  Renan,  it  will  be  remembered,  gave  the 
preference  to  the  narrative  part,  which,  after  several  modifications 
of  opinion,  he  credited  to  a  disciple  of  the  apostle  John,  who  was 
dependent  in  a  degree  for  his  materials  on  the  apostle  himself. 

Wendt,  a  scholar  of  an  excellent  spirit,  standing  in  his  theologi¬ 
cal  opinions  at  an  opposite  pole  from  Renan,  reverses  this  allot¬ 
ment.  He  assigns  to  the  discourses  in  the  Gospel  the  same 
relation  to  the  entire  book  which  many  critics  are  disposed  to 
ascribe  to  the  Logia  in  relation  to  the  entire  Matthew.2  A  consid¬ 
erable  portion  of  the  record  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  including 
the  principal  parts  of  the  final  discourses,  is  thought  by  Wendt  to 
have  been  written  by  the  apostle,  whose  sojourn  in  Asia  Minot# 
is  recognized  as  a  fact.  On  the  basis  of  this  apostolic  source,  it 
is  conceived  that  a  Christian  disciple  afterward  —  possibly,  but 
not  probably,  prior  to  the  apostle’s  death  —  composed  the  Gos¬ 
pel  as  it  now  stands.  In  it  the  teachings  in  the  apostolic  docu¬ 
ment  are  modified  and  enlarged  to  accord  with  the  shape  which 
the  tradition  had  assumed  in  the  circle  of  Asia  Minor  Christians, 
and  the  unwritten  tradition  of  the  narrative  matter  is  added  in  the 
form  which  it  had  acquired  among  them.  Various  changes  and 
supplements,  it  is  said,  belong  to  what  is  termed  “  second  evan¬ 
gelic  tradition,”  traces  of  which,  it  is  argued,  are  discernible  in 
the  first  and  third  Gospels,  as  contrasted  with  Mark. 

Wendt  believes  that  the  Evangelist  is  correct  as  to  some  prominent 
controverted  points,  such  as  the  self-designation  (but  within  narrow 
limits)  of  the  apostolic  author,  the  longer  duration  of  the  ministry  of 
Jesus,  the  journeys  repeatedly  ( manchmals )  made  by  him  to  Jerusalem, 

this  entire  verse  has  been  a  part  of  the  Gospel  as  far  back  as  anything  is 
known  of  it.  It  is  in  truth  a  “  Zeugniss  ”  —  a  testimony.  The  clause 
“wrote  these  things”  is  a  part  of  it.  It  is  agreed  that  it  refers  to  John  the 
apostle.  It  comes  from  those  whose  testimony  could  only  commend  itself  to 
acceptance  by  being  known  to  emanate  from  persons  who  had  stood  in  con¬ 
nection  with  the  apostle. 

1  The  different  forms  of  the  partition-theory  are  sketched  in  Mangold- 
Bleek,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  p.  185  seq.,  up  to  the  date  of  this  work  (1875). 

2  Wendt’s  exposition  of  his  views  is  given  in  his  Die  Lehre  Jesti  (1886- 
1890).  He  has  presented  a  clear  and  compact  restatement  in  Das  Johannes- 
evangelium,  Eine  Untersuchung,  etc.  (1900). 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  267 


his  prolonged  Judean  teaching,  the  date  of  the  crucifixion,  and  (not  im¬ 
probably)  the  association  of  the  first  disciples,  including  John,  with  John 
the  Baptist,  and  their  acquaintance  thus  made  with  Jesus.  But  we  are 
told  that  in  the  completed  Gospel  there  is  no  small  admixture  of  unhis- 
torical  circumstances,  as  well  as  of  doctrinal  matter,  which  are  additions 
of  the  Evangelist.  As  a  whole,  we  have  a  history  the  authentic  por¬ 
tions  of  which  must  be  dissected  out  of  it  by  the  skilful  manipulation 
of  the  critic.  The  prologue  is  cited  as  one  instance  in  which  proof  of 
interpolation  can  be  discerned.  Certain  sentences  which  are  alleged  to 
be  Philonian  ideas  of  the  Logos,  are  said  to  be  insertions  in  the  apos¬ 
tolic  source,  which  said  nothing  of  the  personal  preexistence  of  the 
Logos  or  of  the  agency  of  the  Logos  in  the  work  of  creation. 

It  is  natural  to  ask  where  the  narrative  parts  which  the  other 
Gospels  do  not  contain,  and  which,  it  is  contended,  are  in  con¬ 
flict  with  them,  come  from.  The  same  question  occurs  respecting 
the  portion  of  teaching  which,  it  is  maintained,  is  not  consistent 
with  contents  of  the  authentic  document  from  the  apostle’s  own 
hand. 

Wendt  absolutely  acquits  the  Evangelist  of  any  intention  to 
deceive.  The  Gospel  is  no  product  of  a  doctrinal  party  or  bias. 
It  is  not  a  freie  Dichtung — a  product  of  the  imagination.1  The 
Evangelist  may  himself  have  been  a  hearer  of  the  apostle  John. 
At  any  rate,  he  worked  on  oral  communications  from  the  apostle.2 
The  latter  had  lived  for  many  years  in  the  circle  of  Asia  Minor 
Christians.3  The  special  interest  felt  in  John  at  Ephesus  is  mani¬ 
fest.  The  Evangelist  belonged  to  the  circle  in  which  John  had 
lived.4  “  With  what  reverent  interest  ( pietatvollem  Interesse )  they 
may  have  received  there  the  notes  in  which  the  apostle  had  set 
down  his  recollections  of  the  conversation,  fraught  with  interest, 
and  the  discourses  of  Jesus.”5  Yet  a  different  set  of  conceptions, 
doctrinal  and  historical,  had  sprung  up,  independently  of  the  apos¬ 
tles,  in  that  Christian  community,  when  the  Evangelist  wrote  — 
which  Wendt  thinks  was  probably  in  the  first  quarter  of  the 
second  century  —  that  community  where  the  apostle  was  so  re¬ 
vered  and  his  teachings,  oral  and  written  —  in  great  part  written 
—  were  so  prized  and  cherished.6  Somehow,  without  suspecting 
it,  his  disciples  had  lost  an  important  part  of  their  real  import. 
Unconsciously  and  artlessly  ( unbefangen )  they  had  carried  their 
own  ideas  over  into  the  words  of  the  apostle  !  The  hypothesis  of 

1  Das  Johannes  evangel.^  pp.  227-228.  2  pp.  222,  223.  3  p.  219. 

4  p.217.  5  Ibid.  6p.  218. 


268  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


Wendt  comprises  in  it  inconsistent  conjectures.  These  are  sup¬ 
ported  by  details  of  criticism,  sometimes  plausible,  always  sincere, 
but  usually  suggested  by  supposed  difficulties  which  admit  of  fair 
solutions  not  implying  the  theory  which  the  author  favors.1 

It  is  for  competent  judges  to  decide  whether  the  acceptance  of 
this  and  every  other  partition  theory  is  not  precluded  by  the  iden¬ 
tity  of  style,  both  in  expression  and  thought,  between  the  Gospel 
and  the  First  Epistle.  As  to  the  Gospel,  Neander’s  remark  that 
it  was  produced  “  aus  einem  Gusse  ” —  at  one  cast  —  stands  as 
the  judgment  of  a  scholar  of  acute  perception  and  of  deep  spiritual 
insight.  What  Strauss  said  of  the  Gospel,  that  it  is  a  “  seamless 
garment,”  is  the  verdict  of  a  proficient  in  the  literary  art  who,  so 
far  as  this  verdict  is  concerned,  could  not  have  been  swayed  by 
prejudice.  The  partition  theory  would  make  it  criss-crossed  with 
seams.  In  following  the  suggested  lines  of  demarcation,  we  soon 
become  conscious  that  we  are  walking  on  slippery  ground.  Cer¬ 
tainly  the  same  sort  of  procedure  might  be  made  to  appear  equally, 
and  even  more,  plausible,  if  applied  to  numerous  other  productions 
in  history  and  in  other  branches  of  literature,  the  unity  of  which 
nobody  questions.  In  a  portion  of  Wendt’s  list  of  instances  of  a 
“  broken  connection  ”  in  the  records  of  the  discourses  of  Christ, 
a  break  is  not  recognized  even  by  such  opponents  of  the  apostolic 
authorship  of  the  Gospel  as  Jlilicher  and  Smiedel.  In  certain  pas¬ 
sages  Haupt,  who  dissents  in  general  from  the  positions  of  Wendt, 
is  disposed  to  agree  with  him  as  to  the  phenomena.  His  explana¬ 
tion,  however,  is  wholly  different,  and  is  deserving  of  more  atten¬ 
tion  than  it  has  received.  It  is  that  the  apostle,  in  setting  forth 
the  objections  from  the  side  of  the  Jews,  and  their  refutation  by 
Jesus,  has  occasionally  taken  the  same  course  as  that  taken  by 
Matthew  —  for  example,  in  the  case  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 
That  is  to  say,  with  the  statement  of  what  was  said  at  a  particular 
time  or  place,  the  apostle  has  now  and  then  connected  sayings 
uttered  by  them  or  by  him  on  the  same  topic,  but  on  other  occa¬ 
sions.  There  is  no  need  of  bringing  in  another  writer  than  the 

1  A  very  able  review  of  Wendt’s  hypothesis  by  Haupt,  in  the  Studien  u. 
Kritiken  (1893,  Heft  2),  discusses  adversely  his  arguments,  especially  the 
exegetical  passages  in  support  of  his  position.  A  good  example  of  Haupt’s 
comments  is  his  answer  to  Wendt’s  interpretation  of  the  terms  ari/neia  and  epya 
in  the  fourth  Gospel,  and  to  the  inferences  drawn  from  them.  (Haupt, 
p.  238  seq.') 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  269 


apostle,  —  a  solution  which  is  improbable.  If  it  were  another 
writer,  he  would  naturally  locate  his  addition  elsewhere,  instead  of 
piecing  out  the  words  of  Jesus  by  an  invented  supplement.  In 
order  to  hold  the  non-apostolic  Evangelist  responsible  for  “  dislo¬ 
cations,”  it  is  suggested  by  Wendt  that  he  was  dealing  with  the 
apostolic  source  from  memory,  not  having  it  in  his  hand  —  a  sup¬ 
position,  of  course,  unsupported  by  proof.1 

Wendt  recognizes  the  evidence  of  the  influence  of  the  apostle  John’s 
teaching  on  Ignatius  and  on  Justin.  He  thinks  it  remarkable,  however, 
that  their  allusions  should  be  to  passages  which  belong  in  the  apostolic 
source  rather  than  in  the  narrative  portion  of  the  Gospel.  But  here  is 
the  passage  in  Justin  {Dial.  88)  :  “  I  am  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the 
wilderness,”  etc.  (John  i.  20,  21,  27).  The  reference  of  this  quotation 
to  some  other  source  than  the  fourth  Gospel  would  strike  one,  in  a  less 
sincere  writer,  as  a  makeshift.  The  reasonable  presumption  is,  that  it  is 
taken  from  the  narrative  in  John.  Considering  the  aims  of  Ignatius, 
and  his  themes,  we  see  that  he  would  naturally  refer  to  teachings  in  the 
Gospel  rather  than  incidents.  The  same  is  true  of  Justin.  The  fact 
that  Tatian,  the  pupil  of  Justin,  in  his  Diatesseron ,  combined  the 
fourth  Gospel  with  the  other  three,  thereby  implying  that  it  was  held  to 
be  equal  in  authority,  makes  it  most  unlikely  that  Justin  was  not 
acquainted  with  it  or  was  of  a  different  mind. 

The  partition  theories  are  excluded  by  the  definite  and  emphatic 
testimony  at  the  end  of  the  Gospel.  To  the  Gospel  as  a  whole 
this  testimony  refers  when  it  says  that  the  author  “  wTrote  these 
things.”  This  is  not  questioned  by  Wendt.  His  explanation  is, 
that  as  the  Logia  of  Matthew  at  the  basis  of  the  first  Gospel  caused 
his  name  to  be  attached  to  the  entire  book,  so  it  was  with  the 
apostolic  source  in  relation  to  the  fourth  Gospel.  The  cases  are 
not  parallel.  For  one  thing,  there  is  no  definite  assertion  of  this 
sort  at  the  end  of  the  first  Gospel.  In  the  case  before  us,  we  have 
an  explicit  declaration  which  has  been  a  part  of  the  Gospel  since 
its  first  promulgation. 

It  comes  from  the  circle  of  John’s  disciples,  as  is  shown  in 
the  plural:  “We  know  that  his  witness  is  true.”  In  the  closing 
verse,  which  is  apparently  from  the  same  writer,  he  resumes  the  first 
person  :  “  I  suppose  that  the  world  would  not  contain,”  etc.,  —  an 
expression  of  the  wonder  and  enthusiasm  which  the  fulness  of  mate¬ 
rial  contained  in  the  life  and  works  of  Jesus  awakened  in  his  mind. 

1  See  Appendix,  Note  15. 


2J0  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


It  is  conceivable  that  the  external  evidence,  cogent  as  it 
appears,  for  the  genuineness  of  the  fourth  Gospel  should  be  out- 

)  weighed  by  internal  proofs  of  an  opposite  tenor.  This  branch  of 
the  discussion  we  have  now  to  consider. 

Under  this  head  the  first  fact  to  be  mentioned  is  that  the 
author  of  the  Gospel  was  a  Hebrew,  not  one  of  foreign  birth,  but 
a  Palestinian.  This  is  evident  from  the  linguistic  character  of  the 
book.  It  is  altogether  peculiar.  The  Greek  was  not  the  writer’s 
vernacular  ;  it  was  an  acquired  tongue.  This  has  been  clearly  illus¬ 
trated  by  Lightfoot,1  and  has  been  elucidated  by  Ewald,2  who  says  : 

“  It  is  quite  worthy  of  notice  that  the  Greek  language  of  the  author 
carries  in  it  the  clearest  and  strongest  marks  of  a  genuine  Hebrew  who 
was  born  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  in  that  society  grew  up  without  speak¬ 
ing  Greek,  and  who  even  in  the  midst  of  the  Greek  garb  which  he 
learned  to  wrap  about  him,  still  keeps  the  whole  spirit  and  breadth  of 
his  mother-tongue,  and  has  no  scruples  in  letting  himself  be  guided  by 
it.  The  Greek  language  of  our  Gospel,  to  be  sure,  has  not  so  strong  a 
Hebrew  color  as  that  of  the  older  Gospels  ;  it  has  taken  up  more  genu¬ 
ine  Greek  traits.  But  in  its  real  spirit  and  tone  no  style  could  be  more 
genuinely  Hebrew  than  our  author’s.  Since,  nevertheless,  even  in  his 
linguistic  peculiarity,  he  has  not  cast  aside  his  characteristically  creative 
power  and  movement,  there  has  originated  with  him  a  Greek  which  is 
peculiar,  and  has  nothing  like  it  elsewhere  even  among  writings  which 
are  tinged  with  the  Hebrew.  Only  the  time,  the  biographical  facts,  and 
all  the  characteristics  of  the  apostle  John  can  explain  the  originality  of 
this  Greek  style.” 

The  impression  made  on  the  ordinary  reader  by  the  sceptical 
criticism  on  this  subject  of  the  nativity  of  the  author  is  a  good 
deal  due  to  the  frequent  use  of  the  Greek  word  “  Logos  ”  instead 
of  “  Word,”  its  proper  rendering.  Enough  has  been  said  as  to 
the  strong  Hebraic  coloring  of  the  author’s  style.  The  concep¬ 
tions  that  often  recur  in  the  Gospel,  as  “life,”  “  light,”  “  truth,” 
are  drawn  from  the  circle  of  Old  Testament  thought.  The  author¬ 
ity  of  the  Old  Testament,  the  inspiration  of  Moses  and  the  Proph¬ 
ets,  are  assumed.3  With  the  characteristic  features  of  the  Messianic 

1  Lecture  on  the  “Internal  Evidence  for  the  Johannine  Authorship,”  in 
The  Expositor ,  for  January,  February,  and  March,  1890.  Also,  with  full 
details,  Biblical  Essays,  pp.  16,  126. 

2  Ewald,  Die  Johannischen  Schriften ,  vol.  i.  pp.  44  seq.  Ewald  on  this 
point  is  an  authority  of  the  first  rank. 

3  i.  45,  iii.  14,  v.  46,  vi.  32,  vii.  38,  viii.  56,  x.  35,  xii.  14  seq.,  37  seq.,  xv.  25, 
xix.  23  seq.,  28,  35,  36,  37,  xx.  31. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  27 1 


expectation  the  author  is  quite  familiar.  The  same  is  true  of 
Jewish  opinions  and  customs  generally;  for  example,  the  usages 
connected  witfTmarriage  and  with  the  burial  of  the  dead.  Wit¬ 
ness  his  acquaintance  with  the  prejudice  against  conversing  with 
women  (iv.  27),  with  the  mutual  hatred  of  Jews  and  Samaritans 
(iv.  9),  w'ith  the  opinion  that  deformity  or  suffering  implies  sin  (ix. 
2).  He  is  intimately  conversant  with  Jewish  observances,  as  is 
seen  in  what  he  says  of  “  the  last  day  of  the  feast”  (vii.  37)  — 
that  is,  the  day  added  to  the  original  seven  —  of  the  wedding  at 
Cana,  of  the  burial  of  Lazarus.  We  have  seen  that  the  allusions 
to  the  topography  of  the  Holy  Land  come  from  one  personally 
conversant  with  the  places.  He  knows  how  to  distinguish  Cana 
of  Galilee  from  another  place,  of  more  consequence,  of  the  same 
name  (ii.  1,  1 1) .  Of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  the  passage  across,  and  the 
paths  on  its  shores,  he  has  an  accurate  recollection.  The  same 
is  seen  at  the  opening  of  ch.  iv.,  in  the  reference  to  the  Valley  of 
Sychem.  He  has  in  his  mind  the  image  of  the  Pavement,  or  plat¬ 
form  on  which  Pilate’s  chair  was  placed,  with  its  Hebrew  name, 
Gabbatha  (xix.  13). 

It  is  agreed  on  all  sides  that  the  Gospel  stands  in  a  special  and 
peculiar  relation  to  one  apostle.1  That  apostle  is  admitted,  with 
no  dissent  that  merits  attention,  to  be  the  apostle  John.2  But  the 
name  of  the  apostle  who  is  thus  prominent  is  not  mentioned. 

The  mention  of  it  is  purposely  avoided,  a  circumlocution  standing  in 
the  room  of  it.  At  the  Last  Supper,  there  reclined  on  the  bosom  of 
Jesus  “one  of  his  disciples,  whom  Jesus  loved”  (xiii.  23).  To  him, 
designated  in  the  same  terms,  Jesus  commits  the  care  of  his  mother 
(xiv.  26).  This  disciple  —  “the  other  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved  11 
(xx.  2)  —  goes  with  Peter  to  the  tomb  of  Jesus.  Once  more  (xxi.  7) 
he  is  designated  in  the  same  way.  He  it  is  who  is  termed  “  another 
disciple,”  and  “ that  other  disciple”  (xviii.  15,  16;  compare  xx.  2,  3, 
4,  8).  Unquestionably  he  is  the  “one  of  the  two”  whose  name  is  not 
given,  the  associate  of  Andrew  (i.  40).  In  the  appendix  to  the  Gospel 
(xxi.  24;  compare  vs.  20),  he  is  explicitly  declared  to  be  its  writer.3 
That  he  was  one  of  those  who  had  personally  known  Jesus  is  left  to  be 
inferred,  yet  it  must  be  inferred  from  his  use  of  the  first  person  plural 

1  See,  e.g.,  Weizsacker,  Das  Apostolisches  Zeitalter ,  2d  ed.  p.  513. 

2  Ibid.,  pp.  513  seq. 

3  The  passage  will  bear  no  other  interpretation.  Weizsacker  says  ( Das 
Apostol.  Zeitalt.,  p.  535)  that  it  need  not  be  taken  literally,  but  as  simply 
meaning  that  the  apostle  was  the  ultimate  source.  This  will  not  do. 


272  THE  GROUNDS  OF  TIIEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


of  the  pronoun.  In  the  Prologue  (i.  14),  it  is  said,  “We  beheld  his 
glory,”  etc.  This  cannot  be  understood  to  denote  simply  a  spiritual, 
mystic  vision.  It  is  of  the  incarnate  Christ,  Christ  in  the  flesh,  that 
the  writer  is  speaking.  In  the  First  Epistle  the  language  is:  “That 
which  we  beheld  and  our  hands  handled.”  If  this  does  mean  literal 
sense-perception,  verified  by  touch  as  well  as  by  sight,  how  could  the 
author  express  such  a  fact  if  he  wanted  to  ? 1  The  author  of  both  writ¬ 
ings  is  one  and  the  same.  Which  of  the  disciples  is  meant  in  all  these 
passages?  Not  Peter,  since  Peter  is  not  only  mentioned  by  name  in 
various  places  but  is  also  expressly  distinguished  from  him.  It  was  an 
apostle  not  lower  in  rank  than  Peter.  It  was  not  James  ;  James  was  put 
to  death  early  in  the  apostolic  age  (Acts  xii.  2  seq.).  Beyond  doubt  the 
apostle  whose  name  is  suppressed  is  John.  Why  is  he  referred  to  in 
this  indirect  way?  If  the  author  was  recording  events  in  which  he  him¬ 
self  had  a  prominent  part,  he  might  prefer  to  present  the  narrative  in 
this  objective  way.  Like  examples  in  literature  are  not  wanting.  That 
he  had  to  bring  out  his  close  intimacy  with  Jesus  might  be  another 
motive  for  this  reserve.2  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  not  even  the  name 
of  his  brother  James  is  to  be  found  in  the  Gospel.  These  motives  it 
ought  not  to  be  difficult  to  comprehend.  One  appeal  in  the  Gospel  to 
ocular  testimony  calls  for  special  notice.  After  stating  that  one  of  the 
soldiers  pierced  the  side  of  Jesus  and  that  there  came  out  blood  and 
water,  the  Evangelist  says  (xix.  35,  Revised  Version)  :  “And  he  that 
hath  seen  hath  borne  witness,  and  his  witness  is  true ;  and  he  knoweth 
that  he  saith  true,  that  ye  also  may  believe.”  Does  the  Evangelist  make 
an  appeal  to  another  witness  separate  from  himself,  who  is  said  to  be 
conscious  of  the  truth  of  his  own  testimony  ;  or  does  he  appeal  “  to  his 
own  actual  experience,  now  solemnly  recorded  for  the  instruction  of  his 
readers?”  The  question  is  thus  clearly  put  by  Westcott,  who  deals 
with  it  in  a  very  intelligent  and  convincing  manner:  3  “The  last  alter¬ 
native  has  generally  been  accepted,  and  on  good  grounds,  that  is,  the 
Evangelist  speaks  of  himself  in  the  third  person.  There  are  examples 
of  this  usage  in  classical  writers.  In  John  ix.  37,  there  is  a  like  in¬ 
stance.  Jesus  says,  ‘  Thou  hast  both  seen  him,  and  he  it  is  that  speak- 
eth  with  thee.1  If  the  author  of  the  Gospel  could  use  the  first  clause 
.  .  .  of  himself,  there  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  he  could  also 
use  of  himself  the  particular  pronoun  which  occurs  in  the  second  clause.” 
“To  resume  and  emphasize  the  reference,”  the  author  elsewhere  uses 

1  Futile  attempts  to  avoid  this  interpretation  are  answered  by  B.  Weiss, 
Die  drei  Briefe  d.  Apostels  Johannes ,  ad  loc.  Parallel  statements  of  sense- 
perception,  in  the  Gospel,  are  i.  32,  38,  iv.  35,  vi.  5,  xi.  45.  The  difficulty  of 
attaching  any  other  meaning  to  these  two  passages  (John  i.  14  and  I  Ep. 
John  i.  1)  is  recognized  by  McGiffert,  Apostolic  Age ,  p.  616. 

2  See  another  suggestion  on  the  phrase  “  whom  Jesus  loved,”  Appendix, 

Note  16.  3  St.  John's  Gospel ,  Introd.,  p.  26. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  273 


this  particular  pronoun  (ch.  i.  18;  ch.  v.  38).  A  few  verses  before  the 
record  of  this  act  of  the  soldier  (vv.  26,  27),  “the  Evangelist  is  pre¬ 
sented  as  a  historical  figure  in  the  scene.”  When,  recalling  the  scene, 
he  comes  to  this  incident  in  which  he  was  deeply  interested,  it  is  quite 
natural  that  he  should  pause  and  “  separate  himself  as  the  witness  from 
his  immediate  position  as  a  writer.  In  this  mental  attitude,  he  looks  from 
without  upon  himself  (ckcivo?)  as  affected  at  that  memorable  moment 
by  the  fact  which  he  records,  in  order  that  it  may  now  create  in  others 
the  faith  (7mrreu^re)  which  it  had  created  in  his  own  soul.”  Moreover, 
it  was  not  a  witness  that  was  given  at  one  time ;  the  tense  is  the  perfect 
(  “  it  has  been  given  ”  )  ;  and,  further,  it  continues  to  be  given  (  “  he 
knoweth  that  he  saith  true”).  It  is  given  “that  ye  may  believe.” 
The  other  interpretation,  as  Westcott  remarks,  is  pointless.  It  would 
make  the  passage  nothing  but  an  emphatic  appeal  to  an  unknown  wit¬ 
ness  who  is  said  to  be  conscious  of  the  truthfulness  of  his  own  testi¬ 
mony.  If  the  passage  had  stood,  He  that  hath  seen  hath  borne  witness , 
that  ye  also  may  believe ,  nobody  would  have  doubted  that  the  reference 
of  the  writer  was  to  himself ;  but  the  intercalated  clauses  do  not  inter¬ 
fere  in  the  least  with  this  interpretation.  The  language  chosen  by  the 
Evangelist  grows  out  of  his  sense  of  the  solemnity  of  the  attestation 
which  he  is  giving.1 

That  the  author  of  the  Gospel  signifies  to  his  readers  that  he 
is  giving  his  personal  testimony  appears  evident  from  the  passages 
adduced  above.  The  truth  of  this  profession  is  confirmed  by  the 
appended  attestation  from  another  hand  (John  xxi.  24). 2  If  it 

1  “  .  .  .  urn  mit  besonderer  Fierlichkeit  die  Wahrhaftigkeit  seines  Zeugnisses 
zu  versichern.”  (Weiss-Meyer,  ad  loci)  See  also  Weiss,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T ’., 
p.  560. 

Zahn  thinks  that  “  he  ”  (e/cetVos)  that  “  knoweth  ”  is  Christ.  He  refers  to 
certain  passages  as  illustrative  (John  ix.  37  ;  i.  34,  especially  1  John  ii.  6, 
iii.  5,  7,  16).  See  Zahn,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  vol.  ii.  pp.  172  seq.  But  the  inter¬ 
pretation  given  above  is  better  fitted  to  the  language  and  is  quite  satisfactory. 

Baur  regards  the  Evangelist  as  speaking  of  himself  as  the  witness.  But  he 
would  construe  this  alleged  perception  of  spiritual  objects  as  a  kind  of  mysti¬ 
cal,  spiritual  discernment, — an  intuition  of  spiritual  effects  to  follow  the 
death  of  Christ.  This  is  to  confound  plain  prose  with  poesy.  The  solemn 
tone  of  the  assertion  does  not  cohere  with  such  a  view  of  it.  If  the  Evangel¬ 
ist  did  not  see  what  he  emphatically  avers  that  he  did  see,  his  misstatement 
must  have  a  worse  source  than  what  the  critic  calls  “  die  Macht  der  Idee.” 

2  It  is  certainly  surprising,  as  all  must  confess,  that  there  is  no  mention  of 
Zebedee  and  his  sons,  except  in  a  row  of  names  of  apostles  in  the  appendix 
(xxi.  I,  2).  Whether  this  appended  chapter  as  far  as  the  24th  verse  was  from 
the  pen  of  the  apostle  or  from  disciples  of  the  apostle  (or  one  of  them)  by 
whom  the  Gospel  was  sent  forth,  is  still  an  open  question.  It  is  not  easy  to 

T 


274  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


be  not  the  apostle  who  writes  the  Gospel,  it  is  not  easy  to  escape 
the  inference  that  deceit  is  intended.  If  so,  it  is  a  different  sort 
of  deceit  from  that  which  characterizes  the  pseudonymous  writ¬ 
ings  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  There  is  none  of  that  naivete 
of  the  authors  of  this  species  of  literature,  which  constitutes 
the  sole  apology  that  can  be  made  for  them.  They  do  not  set  a 
trap  for  the  reader.  They  do  not  in  a  sly  way  entice  him  to 
connect  the  book  with  its  pretended  author.  They  betray,  as 
they  feel,  no  hesitation  in  assuming  his  name.  On  the  contrary, 
if  the  apostle  John  was  not  the  author,  it  is  difficult  to  escape  the 
conviction  that  an  artful  device  is  carried  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end  of  the  book.  The  writer  not  only  pretends  to  be  the 
apostle,  but  in  order  to  succeed  in  this  aim  affects  modesty.  He 
puts  himself  side  by  side  with  Peter,  leans  on  the  breast  of  Jesus, 
goes  to  his  sepulchre,  stands  before  the  cross,  there  to  have  the 
mother  of  the  Lord  committed  to  his  charge,  but,  in  order  to 
mislead  his  readers  more  effectually,  takes  pains  to  avoid  writing 
the  name  of  John,  —  except  when  he  speaks  of  the  Baptist  — 
whose  usual  title,  however,  he  suppresses,  —  doing  thus  from  cun¬ 
ning  what  John  the  apostle,  being  of  the  same  name  and  a  disciple 
of  the  Baptist,  might  do  naturally. 

7hen  the  Gospel  is  virtually  an  autobiography.  —  It  professes 
to  tell  the  story  of  the  origin  and  development  of  the  author’s 
personal  faith  in  Jesus  as  the  divine  Son  of  God.  It  is  the  grounds 
of  his  own  faith  which  he  wishes  to  set  forth,  his  purpose  being 
to  inspire  others  with  the  same  faith,  or  to  confirm  them  in  it. 
After  a  short  preface,  a  glowing  avowal  of  the  faith  which  had 
brought  joy  to  his  soul,  he  enters  upon  the  story  of  its  genesis  and 
growth.  Why  not  recount  the  very  facts  which  were  really  the 
source  of  this  faith  in  his  heart?  Why  betake  himself  to  fables? 
Did  he  imagine  that  the  words  and  works  of  Christ,  which  had 

decide.  If  the  latter  alternative  is  adopted,  it  is  not  difficult,  since  the  dis¬ 
ciple  had  the  Gospel  in  his  hand,  to  account  for  his  falling  into  a  similar  style, 
and  for  his  keeping  up  the  designation  of  John  as  “  the  disciple  whom  Jesus 
loved,”  etc.,  instead  of  speaking  of  him  by  name.  But  this  question  of  the 
authorship  of  the  first  twenty-three  verses  is  one  on  which  critics  of  all 
schools  are  pretty  evenly  divided.  There  appears  to  be  no  good  reason  for 
attributing  the  closing  (twenty-fifth)  verse  to  still  another  disciple.  In  the 
twenty-fourth  he  speaks  for  the  group  of  John’s  disciples — “ we  know,”  etc.  ; 
in  the  twenty-fifth  he  expresses  an  individual  feeling. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  275 

actually  evoked  faith  in  his  own  soul,  required  to  be  reenforced  by 
fiction?1 

The  fact  of  the  personal  love  of  the  author  of  the  Gospel  to 
Jesus  appears  irreconcilable  with  the  supposition  that  the  narra¬ 
tive  is  non-apostolic.  It  is  evident  that  the  author  regards  Jesus 
with  a  warm  personal  affection.  Whom  does  he  love  ?  Is  it  an 
unreal  person,  the  offspring  of  philosophical  speculation?  The 
person  whom  he  loves  is  the  historic  Jesus.  Of  him  he  says, 
“  which  we  have  seen  with  our  eyes,  which  we  have  looked  upon, 
and  our  hands  have  handled.” 2  He  is  conscious  that  he  had  been 
specially  an  object  of  the  love  of  Jesus,  —  “  the  disciple  whom 
Jesus  loved.”  To  Jesus  he  is  consciously  united  by  the  closest 
tie  of  personal  friendship.  Did  the  author  picture  to  himself  a 
character,  and  then,  conceiving  of  him  as  an  actual  person  who 
had  said  and  done  what  imagination  had  attributed  to  him,  concen¬ 
trate  on  this  ideal  creation  the  heart’s  deepest  love? 

Does  not  the  tender  simplicity  which  marks  so  many  passages 
of  the  narrative  stamp  them  with  the  seal  of  truth  ?  The  record 
of  the  tears  of  Jesus  on  witnessing  the  sorrow  of  Mary  and  her 
friends ;  the  saying  that,  as  death  approached,  having  loved 
his  disciples,  “  he  loved  them  to  the  end  ”  ;  the  pathetic  words 
“  Behold  thy  mother,”  “  Behold  thy  son,”  which  were  spoken 
from  the  cross  —  is  not  the  verity  of  these  accounts  evident  of 
itself? 

It  has  frequently  been  urged  that  the  catholic  tone  of  the 
author,  and,  in  particular,  his  method  of  speaking  of  “  the  Jews  ” 
as  of  an  alien  body,  are  not  consistent  with  the  character  and 
position  of  the  apostle  John.  We  must  bear  in  mind,  how¬ 
ever,  that  John  is  never  represented  in  the  apostolic  history  as  a 
Judaizer.  He  gave  the  right  hand  of  fellowship  to  the  apostle  to 
the  Gentiles  (Gal.  ii.  9),  and  in  the  Jerusalem  conference  (Acts 
xv.)  he  stands  in  the  background.  He  is  not  writing  at  that 
earlier  time  when  the  Jewish  Christians  were  keeping  up  the 
observances  of  the  temple,  and  hoping  for  a  vast  influx  of  con¬ 
verts  from  their  countrymen.  The  temple  lay  in  ruins.  The  full 
meaning  of  the  Master,  when  he  said,  “  In  this  place  is  one  greater 

1  See  Lecture  of  Dr.  T.  Dwight,  in  Boston  Lectures  (1871). 

2  I  John  i.  I.  The  identity  of  authorship  between  the  Epistle  and  the 
Gospel,  as  we  have  said,  is  established  not  only  by  the  tradition  but  by  con¬ 
vincing  internal  evidence. 


276  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


than  the  temple”  (Matt.  xii.  6),  had  been  opened  to  his  disciples 
by  the  startling  lessons  of  Providence  and  by  the  teaching  of  the 
{  Spirit.  The  rejection  of  Jesus  the  Messiah  by  the  mass  of  the 
Jews,  which  long  before  had  so  deeply  afflicted  the  apostle  Paul, 
was  now  a  palpable  fact.  The  bitter  antipathy  of  the  Jews  to  the 
Church  had  broken  out,  as  the  Jewish  war  approached,  in  acts  of 
violence.  At  an  earlier  time  persecution  of  the  Jewish  Christians 
by  the  Jews  is  referred  to  by  Paul  (1  Thess.  ii.  14),  and  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  (x.  32-35).  In  the  year  44,  Herod 
Agrippa  I.,  a  rigid  Jew,  had  seized  and  killed  John’s  own  brother, 
James.  About  a  score  of  years  later  —  Plegesippus  places  the 
event  just  before  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  by  Vespasian  —  even 
James  the  Just,  the  brother  of  Jesus,  who  had  been  least  of  all 
obnoxious  to  Jewish  zealots,  was  stoned  to  death  by  the  fanatical 
populace  and  their  leaders.  It  is  probable  that  it  was  on  the  eve 
of  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  with  the  Romans,  that  not  only 
John,  but  a  company  of  disciples,  including  in  their  number  one  or 
more  of  the  other  apostles,  went  to  Asia.  There,  in  the  midst  of 
the  Gentile  churches,  at  Ephesus  where  Paul  had  previously 
labored,  the  apostle  John  survived  for  many  years.  He  must 
have  been  in  truth  a  dull  spectator  not  to  have  discovered  the 
meaning  of  the  events  which  made  the  significance  of  Christianity 
and  its  real  relation  to  the  Old  Testament  religion  and  people  as 
clear  as  noonday.  His  must  have  been  an  obtuse  mind  indeed, 
if,  even  independently  of  special  enlightenment  from  above,  what 
Jesus  had  said  respecting  the  spiritual  and  catholic  nature  of 
true  religion  and  of  his  kingdom  had  not  been  brought  vividly 
home  to  his  recollection,  and  its  import  opened  to  his  vision  in 
the  light  of  the  catastrophe  which  had  demolished  the  Jewish 
sanctuary  and  state,  and  of  the  implacable  hostility  which  had 
driven  him  and  his  fellow-disciples  as  outcasts  into  the  bosom  of 
the  churches  that  Paul  had  planted  among  the  heathen. 

What  is  the  attitude  of  this  Gospel  toward  the  religion  and  the 
people  of  the  old  covenant?  Is  mention  made  of  “the  Jews”?  The 
same  phrase  is  on  the  lips  of  Paul, 1  whose  ardent  love  to  his  country¬ 
men  made  him  willing  himself,  were  it  possible,  to  perish  for  them. 
The  author  of  the  fourth  Gospel  is  a  reverent  believer  in  Moses  and 
the  prophets  (i.  47,  iv.  22,  x.  35).  It  is  from  his  report  that  we  are 
informed  of  the  pregnant  words  of  Jesus,  “Salvation  is  of  the  Jews” 

1  Gal.  i.  13,  14  :  “the  Jews’  religion.” 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL 


(iv.  22).  Jesus  is  represented  as  having  come  to  “his  own”  (i.  n). 
The  Jews  were  “  his  own  ”  in  a  peculiar  sense.  Their  refusal  to  receive 
him  is  to  the  author’s  mind  in  the  highest  degree  pathetic.  If  the 
ecclesiastical  tradition  respecting  the  date  of  the  Gospel  and  the  place 
and  circumstances  of  its  composition  is  not  discarded,  there  is  nothing 
in  the  tone  of  the  author  to  hinder  us  from  believing  that  he  was  John 
the  apostle. 

If  the  apostolic  authorship  of  the  fourth  Gospel  is  to  be  dis¬ 
proved,  it  must  be  on  the  ground  of  countervailing  evidence  to  be 
gathered  from  other  New  Testament  documents. 

It  has  been  insisted  that  the  same  author  could  not  have  written 
both  the  Apocalypse  and  the  Gospel.  This  is  an  objection  which 
merits  candid  attention.  It  is  true  that  the  differences  in  style, 
and  in  the  style  of  thought,  between  these  two  books  are  such 
that  both  could  hardly  have  been  composed  at  the  same  time, 
certainly  not  in  the  same  mood  of  feeling.  But  if  we  suppose 
altered  circumstances  and  an  interval  of  time,  the  case  is  different. 
That  an  author  who,  under  the  passionate  emotions  roused  in  him 
by  the  outburst  of  Jewish  and  heathen  persecutions,  in  the  mood 
of  prophetic  exaltation,  had  written  the  Revelation,  should  com¬ 
pose,  twenty  or  thirty  years  later,  works  like  the  Gospel  and 
the  First  Epistle,  is  not  impossible.  The  cruelty  of  Nero  may  have 
stirred  up  unrecorded  outbrealdngs  of  persecution  elsewhere.  The 
Tubingen  critics  erroneously  attributed  to  the  Apocalypse  a  judaizing 
and  anti-Pauline  spirit.  But  the  same  critics  themselves  pointed  out 
marked  affinities  between  the  Gospel  and  the  Apocalypse.  Baur 
even  styled  the  Gospel  a  spiritualized  (vergeistigte)  Apocalypse. 
In  truth,  in  the  book  of  Revelation  there  are  no  traces  of  Jewish 
exclusiveness.  A  more  careful  exegesis  disproves  the  imputation 
of  such  a  spirit.1  It  is  remarkable  that  in  the  Revelation  Christ  is 
called  “  the  Word  [Logos]  of  God”  (Rev.  xix.  13).  Certainly 
weight  is  to  be  attached  to  the  statement  of  Irenseus  that  the 
Apocalypse  appeared  “  in  the  end  of  Domitian’s  reign  ” ; 2  yet  he 
does  not,  as  regards  the  question  of  the  date,  refer,  as  he  does 
concerning  the  authorship  of  the  Gospel,  to  personal  testimonies. 
For  the  earlier  date,  the  age  of  Nero,  there  are  not  wanting  strong 
internal  proofs.3  By  not  a  few  writers  who  favor  the  later  date  for 
the  book  in  its  present  form,  but  regard  it  as  a  composite  work, 

1  On  this  topic,  see  Hort ,Judaistic  Christianity ,  p.  190. 

2  Adv.  Htxr.,  v.  30,  3.  3  See  Rev.  xi.  1  seq.,  xvii.  9-1 1. 


278  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


the  force  of  this  evidence  and  the  earlier  date  of  important 
portions,  or  of  the  nucleus,  of  it  are  admitted.1 

The  many  instances  of  a  mistaken  rejection,  on  internal  grounds, 
of  the  tradition  of  authorship  in  the  case  of  literary  works  cer¬ 
tainly  afford  a  needed  lesson  of  caution  to  critics.  One  striking 
'instance  may  be  adduced  as  an  example.  Dr.  Edward  Zeller, 
a  son-in-law  of  Baur,  was  one  of  the  ablest  expositors  and  de¬ 
fenders  of  his  theological  positions,  including  the  “entweder — 
oder,”  or  the  dilemma  which  was  insisted  on,  that  either  the  Apoc¬ 
alypse  or  the  Gospel,  one  or  the  other,  is  not  the  production  of 
the  apostle  John.  Zeller,  in  his  earlier  work  on  Greek  philosophy, 
the  Platonische  Studien ,  maintained  that  “  Leges”  is  not  a  genuine 
writing  of  Plato.  This  he  did  on  the  basis  of  both  style  and  con¬ 
tents,  and  on  very  plausible  grounds,  notwithstanding  that  its 
genuineness  is  attested  by  Aristotle.2  But  Zeller,  in  his  able  work, 
Die  Philosophie  d.  Griechen ,3  retreats  from  this  positive  opinion. 
He  suggests  that  if  it  could  be  believed  that  the  “  Leges  ”  were  a 
work  of  Plato,  unfinished  by  him,  but  worked  over  and  filled  out 
by  a  pupil,  the  difficulty  would  be  lessened  —  a  conception,  by  the 
way,  very  like  one  of  the  hypotheses  respecting  the  fourth  Gospel. 
But  the  difficulty,  he  still  feels,  would  not  be  removed.  In  the 
later  edition,  however,  of  the  same  work,  Zeller,  finding  the  testi¬ 
mony  of  Aristotle  and  other  considerations  of  too  great  weight, 
retracts  altogether  his  earlier  contention,  and  accepts  the  “  Laws  ” 

1  See  Harnack,  Chronologie,  etc.,  vol.  i.  p.  245  ;  Briggs,  The  Messiah  of  the 
Apostles,  ch.  ix.  p.  303.  Dr.  Briggs  ascribes  to  the  apostle  John  “  the  apocalypse 
of  the  epistles  of  the  seven  churches  and  all  matter  related  thereto.”  “On  this 
view,”  says  Professor  Stevens  ( i.e .  the  view  that  the  book  is  the  growth  of 
successive  contributions),  “the  apostle  might  well  have  compiled  and  pub¬ 
lished  one  or  more  editions  of  it.”  “  By  this  theory  the  phenomena  which 
favor  an  earlier,  and  those  which  favor  a  later,  date  could  be  accounted  for 
as  well  as  the  apparent  combination  of  Jewish  and  Christian  elements”  ( The 
Theology  of  the  New  Testament,  pp.  526,  527).  Professor  F.  C.  Porter,  in  the 
learned  article,  “  Revelation,  Book  of,”  in  Hastings’  Dictionary  of  the  Bible, 
favors  the  later  date  for  the  book  in  its  present  compass. 

Professor  Ramsay,  who  is  of  the  same  opinion,  comparing  the  Apocalypse 
with  the  Gospel  and  First  Epistle  of  John,  judges  that  “  there  is  a  closer  rela¬ 
tion  between  the  three  works  than  exists  between  them  and  any  fourth 
work”  (  The  Church  in  the  Roman  Empire,  p.  303). 

2  Some  of  the  characteristics  of  the  “Laws,”  in  contrast  with  those  of  the 

other  Dialogues,  are  described  in  Jowett’s  translation  of  Plato,  vol.  iv.,  Intro¬ 
duction.  3  Th.  I.  §  24. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL 


as  the  genuine  production  of  Plato  in  his  later  life.  Pametius,  a 
noted  Stoic  philosopher  at  Athens,  went  so  far  as  to  reject  the 
Phaedon  as  not  being  the  work  of  Plato.  He  admired  Plato, 
but  disbelieving  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  he  thought  that  the 
main  proposition  and  the  arguments  of  this  Dialogue  are  un¬ 
worthy  of  the  philosopher  to  whom  it  is  ascribed.  Then,  as  Grote 
observes,  he  was  probably  influenced  by  a  singularity  in  the  Phae¬ 
don —  it  being  the  only  dialogue  in  which  the  author  mentions 
himself  in  the  third  person,1  —  a  point,  it  may  be  remarked,  in 
which  the  Phaedon  resembles  the  fourth  Gospel.  As  to  the  rejec¬ 
tion  of  the  “  Laws,”  on  internal  grounds,  Grote  says  :  “  There  are 
few  dialogues  in  the  list  against  which  stronger  objections  on  inter¬ 
nal  grounds  can  be  brought  than  against  Leges  and  Menexenus.  Yet 
both  of  them  stand  authenticated,  beyond  all  reasonable  dispute,  as 
genuine  works  of  Plato,  not  merely  by  the  canon  of  Thrasyllus, 
but  also  by  the  testimony  of  Aristotle.” 2  Grote  adds  that  consid¬ 
ering  Plato’s  long  period  of  philosophic  composition  and  our 
limited  knowledge  of  the  circumstances  of  his  life,  “it  is  surely 
hazardous  to  limit  the  range  of  his  varieties,  on  the  faith  of  a 
critical  repugnance  not  merely  subjective  and  fallible,  but  withal 
of  entirely  modern  growth.”  3 

How  many  readers  with  no  knowledge  of  the  author  save  what 
the  style  of  the  books  permit  would  say  that  Carlyle’s  Life  of 
Schiller  (1823-24)  and  translation  of  Wilhelm  Meister  (1824) 
could  be  from  the  same  pen  as  Sartor  Resartus  (1833-34)  and 
Life  of  Frederick  (1858-65)  ? 

We  have  now  to  test  the  character  of  the  fourth  Gospel  by  a 
more  detailed  scrutiny  of  its  contents.  We  have  seen  that  accord¬ 
ing  to  this  theory,  of  which  Baur  was  the  most  eminent  sponsor, 
this  Gospel  was  the  development  of  a  theological  idea,  fervently 
cherished  by  the  unknown  author,  yet  appropriated  by  him  from 
Alexandrian  sources  and  interwoven  by  him  both  with  imaginary 
teachings  of  Jesus  and  with  allegorical  facts  likewise  imaginary. 

The  first  question  is  whether  the  narrative  portions  of  the  Gospel 
furnish  a  proof  for  this  theory.  Not  to  dwell  on  the  strain  which 
is  required  in  so  many  instances  to  match  the  allegory  to  the 
narrative,  the  theory  is  confuted  by  the  abundant  evidences  of  a 
distinct  historical  feeling  and  point  of  view  on  the  part  of  the 

1  Grote’s  Plato ,  i.  158,  2  Ibid.,  p.  209.  3  Ibid.,  p.  201. 


280  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


writer.  No  critic  has  shown  this  more  effectively  than  Renan, 
despite  his  a  priori  incredulity  in  respect  to  everything  that  par¬ 
takes  of  the  miraculous.1 

Before  citing  some  of  his  observations,  certain  of  the  indirect  indica¬ 
tions  that  the  Evangelist  speaks  from  personal  recollection  may  be 
pointed  out.  “And  it  was  at  Jerusalem  at  the  feast  of  the  dedication, 
and  it  was  winter.  And  Jesus  walked  in  the  temple  in  Solomon’s 
porch  ”  (x.  22,  23).  Why  should  it  be  mentioned  that  Jesus  was  in  this 
porch?  Nothing  in  the  context  called  for  it.  How  account  for  its 
being  mentioned  except  on  the  supposition  that  the  scene  was  pictured 
in  the  author’s  memory?  Stating  this  fact,  he  must  needs  explain  to 
heathen  readers  why  Jesus  walked  in  this  sheltered  place:  “it  was 
winter.”  The  festival  occurred  in  December.  When  Mary  anointed 
the  feet  of  Jesus,  “the  house  was  filled  with  the  odor  of  the  ointment” 
(xii.  3). 2  A  similar  personal  reminiscence  is  in  John  viii.  20.  The 
brazen  chests  constituting  the  “  treasury  ”  the  author  had  seen.  The 
image  of  Jesus  as  he  stood  near  them  was  stamped  on  his  memory.  Why 
should  he  refer  to  “FEnon,”  where  John  was  baptizing,  as  being  “near 
to  Salim”  (iii.  23)?  Why  should  he  describe  the  pool  at  Jerusalem 
as  being  by  the  sheep-gate,  as  called  in  the  Hebrew  “  Bethesda,”  and  as 
having  five  porches  (v.  2)?  Why  give  the  number  of  porches? 
Chronological  statements,  some  of  them  defining  not  only  the  day  but 
the  hour,  are  frequent.  They  come  in,  not  as  if  they  had  been  picked 
up  to  be  wrought  in,  but  as  a  spontaneous  reminiscence.  “  It  was  about 
the  tenth  hour”  (i.  39):  “For  John  was  not  yet  cast  into  prison” 
(iii.  24)  —  these  are  examples.  For  what  reason  is  Philip  designated 
(xii.  21)  as  “of  Bethsaida  of  Galilee,”  when  the  connected  incident 
does  not  call  for  any  such  local  specification?  What  reason  is  there 
for  adding  to  the  statement  that  Pilate  sat  down  in  his  judgment-seat 
the  remark  that  the  place  “  is  called  the  Pavement,  but  in  the  Hebrew, 
Gabbatha  ”  ?  What  can  this  be  but  an  instance  of  local  description,  natu¬ 
ral  in  referring  to  a  spot  where  a  man  has  witnessed  a  memorable  event? 
What  reason  for  the  mention  of  the  visit  of  Jesus  to  Capernaum  (John 
ii.  1 1 ),  save  as  a  personal  reminiscence?  3 

Renan  is  often  struck  with  marks  of  historical  verity  in  the  Gospel. 

“Whence  come  particulars,  so  exact,  upon  Philip,  upon  the  country 
of  Andrew  and  Peter,  and  especially  about  Nathanael  ?  Nathanael 

1  Vie  de  Jesus,  13th  ed.  Appendice. 

2  In  the  account  of  a  landing  of  certain  passengers  from  the  Mayjlozver  before 
the  whole  company  disembarked  at  Plymouth,  it  is  said  that  while  on  the  land 
they  filled  their  boat  with  juniper.  The  writer  says  of  the  juniper,  it  “smelled 
very  sweet  and  strong”  and  “  we  burnt  the  most  part  of  it  while  we  lay  there  ” 
—  a  feature  in  the  description  which  shows  of  itself  that  he  was  one  of  them. 

8  See  Appendix,  Note  17,  p.  412. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  28 1 


belongs  to  this  Gospel  alone.  I  cannot  regard  traits  so  precise  which 
pertain  to  him,  as  inventions  originating  a  hundred  years  after  the  time 
of  Jesus  and  far  away  from  Palestine.  If  he  is  a  symbolic  personage, 
why  does  the  writer  take  the  trouble  to  inform  us  that  he  is  of  Cana 
of  Galilee,  a  city  which  the  Evangelist  appears  to  be  particularly  well 
acquainted  with?”  “Why  should  our  Evangelist  speak  repeatedly 
of  Cana  of  Galilee,  a  small  city,  extremely  obscure?  Why  should  he 
want  to  create,  too  late,  a  celebrity  for  this  little  borough,  which 
certainly  semi-Gnostic  Christians  of  Asia  Minor  had  no  motive  for 
remembering?  ” 

The  whole  passage  from  ch.  i.  to  ch.  iv.  2  appears  to  Renan  to 
be  stamped  with  tokens  of  historical  truth.  He  mentions  specially 
the  topographical  references.  Of  ch.  iv.  3-6,  he  does  not  hesi¬ 
tate  to  say  that  “  none  but  a  Jew  of  Palestine  who  had  often  passed 
to  the  entrance  of  the  Valley  of  Sychem  could  have  written  this.” 

“The  verses  vii.  1-10  are  a  little  historical  treasure.  ...  It  is 
here  that  the  symbolic  and  dogmatic  explanation  is  completely  at  fault. 
.  .  .  After  this,  how  can  it  be  said  that  the  personages  of  the  fourth 
Gospel  are  types,  invented  characters,  and  not  living  beings  in  flesh 
and  blood?  ” 

Renan  adds  —  so  impressed  is  he  with  the  verisimilitude  of  this 
account  —  that  the  fourth  Gospel  is  above  the  Synoptics  “  in  the 
evidences  afforded  of  a  history  and  narrative  which  aim  to  be  exact.” 
Notwithstanding  his  ingrained  disbelief  in  miracles,  he  finds  unmis¬ 
takable  marks  of  truth  in  the  Johannean  narrative  of  the  relations 
of  Jesus  to  the  sisters  of  Bethany.  Despite  the  record  of  the  rais¬ 
ing  of  Lazarus,  Renan  perceives  in  the  entire  closing  portion  of  the 
fourth  Gospel,  the  whole  story  of  the  betrayal  and  passion  included, 
particular  marks  of  accuracy  which  are  superior  to  such  as  are 
found  in  the  Synoptics.  The  omission  by  the  Synoptics  of  a  notice 
of  the  miracle  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus  is  incidental  to  the  passing 
over  by  them  of  the  interval  between  the  Galilean  labors  of  Jesus 
and  the  last  festival  which  he  attended  at  Jerusalem.1 

Could  it  be  shown  that  the  various  parts  of  the  Gospel  nar¬ 
rative  are  artificial,  or  plainly  improbable,  its  genuineness  might 
be  disproved.  But  interpretations  of  Baur  and  of  others  who 
agree  with  him  on  the  main  question,  by  which  this  is  sought  to 
be  done,  are  too  often  forced  upon  the  text. 

1  “  The  silence  of  the  Synoptics  in  regard  to  the  episode  at  Bethany  does 
not  make  much  of  an  impression  on  me.  The  Synoptics  had  a  very  poor 
knowledge  of  all  that  immediately  preceded  the  last  week  of  Jesus.  It  is  not 


282  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


What,  for  example,  can  be  more  groundless  than  the  opinion  of 
many  critics,  from  Baur  to  Keim,  that,  according  to  this  Gospel,  Jesus 
was  not  baptized?  It  is  strange  that  any  reader,  with  John  i.  32,  33 
before  him,  could  ever  impute  to  the  Evangelist  such  an  intent.  How, 
it  might  be  added,  could  the  author,  whoever  he  was,  expect  to  destroy 
the  established  belief  of  Christians  in  a  fact  like  this,  embedded  as  it 
was  in  the  Gospel  tradition?  If  he  were  rash  enough  to  set  about  such 
a  task,  how  could  he  hope  to  succeed  by  merely  omitting  to  make  an 
explicit  record  of  the  circumstance?  It  was  one  of  the  suggestions  of 
the  Tubingen  critics,  in  which  they  have  been  much  followed,  that 
Nicodemus  is  a  person  invented  to  serve  as  a  type  of  unbelieving,  sign¬ 
seeking  Judaism.  Why,  then,  should  he  be  depicted  as  attaining  more 
and  more  faith  (iii.  2,  vii.  50,  xix.  39)?  The  Samaritan  woman,  on  the 
contrary,  is  said  to  have  been  created  as  a  type  of  the  believing  heathen. 
With  such  a  design,  why  was  not  an  actual  heathen  chosen  to  play  this 
part,  instead  of  a  Samaritan  who  believed  in  Moses  and  was  looking  for 
the  Messiah?1  But  into  the  details  of  exegesis  it  is  impracticable  here 
to  enter.2 

simply  the  incident  [the  miracle]  at  Bethany  that  is  wanting  with  them  ;  it 
is  the  whole  period  of  the  life  of  Jesus  with  which  this  incident  is  connected. 
One  comes  back  always  to  this  fundamental  point  :  The  question  is,  Which  of 
the  two  systems  is  true,  that  which  makes  Galilee  the  exclusive  theatre  of  the 
activity  of  Jesus,  or  that  which  makes  Jesus  pass  a  part  of  his  life  at  Jerusa¬ 
lem?”  Of  the  symbolical  explication  of  the  miracle,  Renan  says  :  “It  is  in 
my  judgment  erroneous.  .  .  .  Our  Gospel  [the  fourth]  is  not  in  the  least 
( nullement )  symbolical.” —  Vie  de  Jesus ,  13th  ed.,  pp.  507,  508. 

The  miracle  at  Bethany  was  not  the  cause  of  the  crucifixion  ;  it  only  led 
the  enemies  of  Jesus  to  make  haste.  Therefore  it  furnished  the  Synoptists  no 
special  motive  for  stepping  beyond  the  lines  of  their  narratives.  Indepen¬ 
dently  of  this  event,  the  animosity  of  the  priests  and  Pharisees  had  previously 
risen  to  a  pitch  which  made  them  ready  to  strike  the  final  blow.  Their 
anxiety  as  to  what  would  be  the  influence  of  the  miracle  (John  xi.  47,  48) 
simply  quickened  their  steps.  The  miracle  itself  in  its  nature  differs  not  from 
the  instances  of  raising  the  dead  which  are  recorded  by  the  Synoptists,  for  we 
need  not  suppose  here,  any  more  than  in  those  instances,  the  absolute  discon¬ 
nection  of  soul  and  body. 

1  The  suggestion  that  the  five  husbands  of  the  Samaritan  woman  symbolize 
the  five  heathen  forms  of  Samaritan  worship  —  in  which  case  her  paramour 
would  be  spoken  of  as  a  symbol  of  Jehovah  !  —  is  itself  a  freak  of  fancy. 

When  it  is  said  that  the  “  disciples  had  gone  away  into  the  city  to  buy 
food,”  it  is  a  strained  construction  to  infer  that  they  all  went,  leaving  Jesus 
quite  alone.  If  it  was  John  who  remained  with  him,  he  had  no  need  to  be 
informed  of  these  particulars. 

2  For  a  particular  examination  of  Baur’s  exegesis  of  the  Gospel,  see  Bey- 
schlag  (ut supra)  ;  also  Bruckner’s  notes  to  De  Wette’s  Kurze  Erkl.  d.  Evang. 
Johann.,  and  Fisher’s  The  Supernatural  Origin  of  Christianity  3d  ed., 
pp.  132  seq. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  283 


Critics  of  the  class  here  referred  to  have  said  that  the  author  of\ 
this  Gospel  attaches  no  value  to  miracles,  setting  them  up,  so  to 
speak,  merely  to  bowl  them  down.  This  is  an  error.  As  he  looks 
back  upon  the  Saviour’s  life,  he  sees  the  glory  of  the  Son  of  God 
in  his  superhuman  works  of  power  and  mercy.  That  which  is 
rebuked  in  the  Gospel  is  the  disposition  to  see  nothing  in  the 
miracles  except  that  which  excites  wonder  or  ministers  to  some  lower 
want,  instead  of  discerning  their  deeper  suggestion.  Unbelief,  even 
when  not  denying  that  they  were  wrought,  failed  to  look  through 
them.  They  were  a  language  the  import  of  which  was  not  divined. 
They  were  opaque  facts.  Hence  the  Jews  called  for  more  and 
more.  They  clamored  for  something  more  stupendous.  They 
must  have  a  “  sign  from  heaven.”  This  is  the  view  taken  of 
miracles  in  the  fourth  Gospel.  There  is  not  even  a  remote  hint 
that  they  are  not  actual  occurrences.  The  narrator  does  not 
stultify  himself  in  this  way. 

In  every  instance  where  Baur  appeals  to  exegesis  in  support  of  his 
idea  of  the  Evangelist’s  intent  in  this  matter,  he  is  confuted  upon  closer 
attention  to  the  passage  in  hand.  For  example,  when  Jesus  said, 
“  Blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed  11  (xx.  29)  ? 
there  is,  to  be  sure,  an  allusion  to  the  reluctance  of  Thomas  to  believe 
without  seeing;  but  to  believe  what ?  Why,  the  miracle  of  the  resur¬ 
rection,  to  which  the  other  apostles  had  testified  in  his  hearing.  This 
was  the  object  of  faith.  Not  on  faith  independent  of  miracles,  but  on 
faith  not  dependent  on  one’s  own  ocular  perception  of  them,  Jesus  pro¬ 
nounces  his  blessing. 

And  here  it  may  be  observed  that  there  is  no  kind  of  miracle, 
none  calling  for  the  exertion  of  any  species  or  degree  of  power, 
which  has  not  its  parallel  in  the  Synoptics.  In  Mark,  Jesus  stills 
the  tempest  (ch.  v.),  feeds  the  multitude  (chs.  vi.,  viii.),  and  raises 
the  dead  (ch.  v.). 

From  the  historical  character  and  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  we 
turn  to  the  second  branch  of  this  inquiry,  its  theological  aspect. 
It  is  contended  by  Baur  and  numerous  later  critics  that  the  con¬ 
ception  of  the  Word  (Logos)  in  the  Gospel  is  appropriated  from 
the  Alexandrian  Judaism  of  Philo,  and  is  the  idea  which  gives  form 
and  color  to  its  doctrinal  contents.  These  two  propositions  are 
really  the  main  fortress  on  which  they  rely.  Neither  of  them  can  be 
sustained.  The  structure  of  which  they  furnish  the  materials  is, 
therefore,  untenable. 


284  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

The  term  “  Logos  ”  in  the  Jewish  theology  is  of  Palestinian  origin. 

In  the  Old  Testament  this  Word  as  an  abstraction  has  divine  attri¬ 
butes  attached  to  it.1  The  “  Word”  is  personified.2  It  is  spoken  of 
as  an  instrument  of  creation.3  “  By  the  word  of  the  Lord  were  the 
heavens  made,  and  all  the  host  of  them  by  the  breath  of  his  mouth.” 
“  He  spake,  and  the  light  came  into  being.”  4  He  “spake”  unto  Moses 
and  the  prophets.  In  the  Jewish  Targums  —  which  in  their  present 
form,  to  be  sure,  are  not  earlier  than  the  third  century,  materials  of 
which,  however,  go  back  to  the  apostolic  age  —  the  Word  is  personal. 
In  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  Wisdom  is  personified  and  described  as  taking 
part  in  the  work  of  creation,  being  the  first  creature  of  God  and  the  typi¬ 
cal  source  of  human  wisdom.  In  the  Old  Testament  apocryphal  books, 
the  Son  of  Sirach,  the  author  of  the  original  of  which  was  a  Hebrew  of 
Palestinian  birth,  and  especially  in  the  Wisdom  of  Solomon,  Wisdom  is 
personified  in  a  still  more  vivid  way-  In  the  former  book,  Wisdom  is 
made  to  say,  “  I  came  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  Most  High  and  covered 
the  earth  as  a  cloud  ”  ;  5  “  He  created  [or  preserved]  me  from  the  be¬ 
ginning  before  thy  world.” 6  The  Lord  is  said  to  have  commanded 
Wisdom  to  make  her  abode  in  Israel.7 

The  roots  of  Philo’s  conception  of  the  Logos  were  in  these  Old 
.Testament  and  apocryphal  sources. 

But  with  Philo,  along  with  what  was  drawn  from  the  wisdom 
literature,  were  commingled  kindred  conceptions  of  the  Logos, 
derived  from  Plato,  and  especially  from  Stoic  teaching.  In  the 
prologue  of  the  Gospel,  there  is  nothing  that  might  not  have  been 
drawn  from  Palestinian  sources  earlier  than  the  apocryphal  books 
referred  to.  Certain  points  of  resemblance  to  Philo’s  teaching 
may  thus  be  accounted  for.  But  the  points  of  difference  from 
Philo  are  fundamental. 

In  the  Gospel,  the  Logos  is  personal.  Not  so  in  Philo.  The  current 
of  his  teaching  is  of  an  opposite  tenor,  and  these  passages  admit  of  an  in¬ 
terpretation  consistent  with  what,  generally  speaking,  is  plainly  his  view.8 
In  Philo,  Logos  usually  signifies  the  Platonic  idea  of  reason.  In  the 

1  Ps.  xxiii.  4  ;  cxix.  89  ;  cv.  ;  Is.  xl.  8. 

2  Ps.  cvii.  20  ;  cxlvii.  15  ;  xviii.  ;  Is.  lv.  II.  4  Gen.  i.  6  Ch.  xxiv.  3. 

3  Ps.  xxxiii.  6.  5  Ch.  xxiv.  3.  7  Ibid.,  v.  8. 

8  See  Drummond,  The  Alexandrian  Philosophy  of  Philo ;  Dorner,  Ent- 

wickelungsgesch.  d.  Lehre  d.  Person  Christi,  vol.  i.  pp.  19,  20  seq.  The  utmost 

that  can  be  claimed  is  that  Philo  shows  a  tendency  to  personalize  the  Logos. 

But  this  was  not  peculiar  to  Philo  or  to  Alexandria.  See  Sanday  (in  review 

of  Schiirer),  The  Expositor ,  1892,  p.  286.  Nor  is  the  Logos  in  Philo  eternal, 
nor  even  divine,  save  from  the  human  point  of  view. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  285 


Gospel,  this  conception  does  not  appear.  Once  more  —  and  this  contra¬ 
riety  is  vital  —  the  central  thought  of  the  prologue  of  the  Gospel  —  that 
of  the  Incarnation  of  the  Logos  —  is  in  conflict  with  the  philosophy  of 
Philo.  His  system  is  dualistic.  In  it  matter  is  alien  to  the  Deity.  Noth¬ 
ing  could  clash  more  directly  with  the  system  of  Philo  than  the  Declara¬ 
tion  of  the  Evangelist,  “the  Logos  became  flesh  ”  (i.  41).  The  Judaic 
gnosticism  in  which  the  Incarnation  was  merely  apparent,  a  temporary 
connection  of  the  divine  Logos  with  the  man  Jesus,  was  the  logical  out-  1 
come  of  the  Philonian  speculation.  Cerinthus  carried  out  the  dualistic 
theory.  He  taught  that  the  heavenly  Christ  joined  himself  to  Jesus  at 
his  baptism,  but  forsook  him  at  the  passion.  It  was  Cerinthus,  who 
probably  began  his  career  at  Alexandria,  against  whom,  it  is  stated  by 
Irenaeus,  the  apostle  John  wrote. 

It  is  possible  that  the  use  of  the  term  “  Logos  ”  by  the  Evangelist 
was  owing,  or  partly  owing,  to  its  having  become  familiar  in  cur¬ 
rent  talk,  which  in  some  measure  was  traceable  to  the  school  of  | 
Philo.  This  is  a  question  of  minor  consequence.  The  important 
fact  is  that,  instead  of  borrowing  from  Philo  the  contents  of  the 
conception,  his  sources  are  Biblical,  and  whatever  is  non-Biblical 
in  the  Alexandrian  idea  is  absent. 

It  is  an  eloquent  fact  that  the  beginning  and  end  of  the  statements 
concerning  the  Logos  are  in  the  few  verses  of  the  prologue.  It 
does  not  appear  in  the  teachings  of  Jesus  that  follow.  However, 
and  for  whatever  reason,  the  designation  may  have  been  selected, 
the  idea  the  Evangelist  derives  from  the  impression  made 
by  Jesus  and  by  his  testimony  respecting  himself.  The  confident 
assertion,  often  as  it  is  made,  that  the  prologue  and  theology  of 
the  Gospel  are  of  Alexandrian  origin,  is  not  supported  by  the 
evidence.1  The  verdict  of  ecclesiastical  history  is  decisively 
against  it. 

The  following  are  observations  of  Harnack  :  — 

'‘W-...,:.-  -  -V— V.,--  ^  -  -• 

“The  reference  to  Philo  and  Hellenism  does  not  avail  in  the  least  to 
explain  satisfactorily  even  the  external  side  of  the  problem.  No  Greek 
speculations  respecting  the  divine  nature  have  had  an  influence  in  the 
Johannean  theology.  Even  the  Logos  has  little  more  in  common  with 
the  Philonian  Logos  than  the  name.”  It  is  “  out  of  the  old  faith  of 

1  In  favor  of  a  predominant  influence  of  Philo  in  the  Gospel  are :  Reville, 
Jesus  de  Nazareth ,  vol.  i.  pp.  336  seq.  ;  Weizsacker,  Das  Apostol.  Zeitalter,  2d 
ed.,  p.  531  ;  Holtzmann,  Lehrbuch  d.  N.  T.  Theologie,  vol.  ii.  pp.  368  seq. 
Also  Aal,  Der  Logos  (1886,  1889),  and  Grill,  Untersuchh.  ii.  d.  Ensteh.  d.  4ten 
Evangel.  (1902). 


286  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


prophets  and  apostles”  that  “the  apostolic  testimony  concerning  Christ 
has  created  a  new  faith  in  one  who  lived  among  Greeks.  .  .  .  Even 
this  proves  incontestably  that  the  author,  despite  pronounced  anti- 
Judaism,  must  be  regarded  as  being  a  born  Jew.” 

“The  prologue,”  Harnack  proceeds  to  say,  “is  not  the  key  to  the 
understanding  of  the  Gospel,  but  it  prepares  in  advance  the  Hellenic 
readers  for  the  understanding  of  it.  It  makes  a  connection  with  a  great 
conception,  that  of  the  Logos,  with  which  they  were  acquainted,  remoulds 
and  transforms  it  —  by  implication  combating  false  Christologies  —  in 
order  to  substitute  for  it  Jesus  Christ,  the  only  begotten  God  (fiovo- 
yevrjs  6kos),  or  to  unveil  the  Logos  as  being  this  Jesus  Christ. 
The  moment  this  is  done  the  Logos  conception  is  dropped.  The 
author  speaks  in  the  narrative  only  of  Jesus,  with  the  purpose  to  estab¬ 
lish  the  faith  that  he  is  the  Messiah,  the  Son  of  God.  This  faith  has 
for  its  chief  element  the  recognition  that  Jesus  comes  forth  ( stammt ) 
from  God  and  from  heaven  ;  but  the  author  is  far  from  attempting  to 
produce  this  recognition  in  a  philosophical  way,  by  cosmological  views. 
It  is  on  the  ground  of  his  testimony  respecting  himself,  and  because  he 
has  brought  the  full  knowledge  of  God  and  Life  —  brought  absolutely 
super-terrestrial,  divine  blessings  ( Giiter )  —  that  Jesus,  according  to  the 
Evangelist,  shows  himself  to  be  the  Messiah,  the  Son  of  God.”1  “I 
believe,”  says  the  same  author,  “  that  I  am  right  in  asserting  that  it 
would  never  have  occurred  to  any  one  to  identify  the  Johannean  Christ 
with  the  Alexandrian  or  with  any  personified  divine  Logos,  if  this  iden¬ 
tification  had  not  been  made  in  the  prologue.”  2 

Another  master  in  the  field  of  church  history,  Professor  Loofs, 
writes  thus  :  — 

“It  is  no  matter  where  the  word  ‘  Logos,’  used  by  John,  may  have 
come  from.  Of  what  was  possible  on  Palestinian  ground,  too  little  in 
connection  with  this  question,  in  my  opinion,  has  been  said :  compare 
Son  of  Sirach  xxiv.  not  only  with  John  i.  i — 1 8,  but  also  with  viii.  3 7  seq. 
and  xv.  1  seq.”  Loofs  shows  that  with  John  the  Logos  conception  is 
not  connected  with  philosophical  thoughts.  His  idea  is  that  “in 
Christ  the  Word  of  God  which  called  the  world  into  being  and  all  along 
has  been  the  life  and  light  of  men,  has  become  a  human  person ;  that 
Christ  not  only  brings  God’s  Word,  he  is  it ;  he  is  the  God  become 
visible  and  apprehensible  (John  i.  14;  1  John  i.  i).3 

1  Harnack,  Dogmengeschichte,  3d  ed.,  p.  93. 

2  Zeitschr.  fur  Theol.  u.  Kirche,  vol.  i.  2,  p.  21 1. 

3  Real  Encykl.  d.  Theol.  u.  Kirche,  3d.  ed.,  vol.  iv.  p.  29  (art.  “  Christo- 
logie  ”). 

Dr.  E.  A.  Abbott  (in  the  art.  “  Gospels,”  Encycl.  Brit.,  vol.  x.)  traces  various 
passages  in  John  to  Philo.  But  why  go  so  far,  when  the  Old  Testament  fur- 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  287 


An  English  scholar,  as  eminent  for  his  candor  as  for  his  learning, 
speaking  of  the  essential  harmony  of  the  conception  of  the  person  of 
Christ  in  John  with  the  doctrine  of  Paul  and  with  the  conception  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  remarks,  “We  can  well  understand  how 
almost  any  strong  wind  might  blow  in  the  direction  of  the  apostle 
[John]  the  one  luminous  word  for  which  we  may  suppose  him  to  be 
seeking.” 1 

The  preexistence  of  Christ  and  his  cosmical  relation,  his  agency 
in  the  creation,  are  plainly  taught  in  1  Cor.  viii.  6 ;  2  Cor.  viii.  9  ; 
Phil.  ii.  6.  Scepticism  respecting  the  Pauline  authorship  of  the 
Colossians  and  Ephesians  is  steadily  giving  way  under  the  weight 
of  evidence  for  their  genuineness.  In  these  writings,  in  Colossians 
especially,  the  exaltation  of  Christ  and  his  broad,  universal  rela¬ 
tion  are  set  forth,  to  serve  as  an  antidote  to  a  Judaizing  theosophy 
with  which  was  connected  a  worship  of  angels.  Certain  passages 
in  Colossians  and  Ephesians  have  suggested  that  the  Evangelist 
was  not  unacquainted  with  the  apostle  Paul’s  teaching.  But  there 

nishes  abundant  materials  suggestive  of  the  imagery  which  is  contained  in 
every  passage  to  which  Dr.  Abbot  refers  ?  The  Evangelist’s  account  of  the 
visit  of  the  Samaritan  woman  to  the  well  (eh.  iv.)  is  said  to  remind  us  of 
Philo’s  contrast  between  Hagar  at  the  well  and  Rebekah  ( Posterity  of  Cain, 
xli.).  Why,  then,  does  the  Evangelist  make  the  woman  carry  a  pitcher,  like 
Rebekah,  while  in  Philo  one  point  of  the  contrast  is  that  she  carries  a 
“  leathern  bag  ”  ?  The  reader  who  will  consult  an  English  concordance 
under  the  words  “well,”  “wells,”  “water,”  “waters,”  “living  water,”  “foun¬ 
tain,”  “  fountains,”  “  drink,”  will  see  how  much  closer  the  parallels  are  be¬ 
tween  John  iv.  and  the  Old  Testament  than  between  that  chapter  and  Philo. 
For  example,  for  “wells  of  salvation,”  see  Isa.  xii.  2;  compare  Prov.  x.  11, 
xvi.  22,  xviii.  4.  For  “fountain  of  living  water,”  see  Jer.  ii.  13;  compare 
Isa.  lviii.  11  ;  Jer.  xvii.  13  ;  Cant.  iv.  15.  See  also  Rev.  xxi.  6,  which  will  not 
be  attributed  to  Philo.  “Ye  drink  ;  but  ye  are  not  filled  with  drink”  (Hag. 
i.  6).  As  for  the  figurative  use  of  “bread,”  the  suggestions  in  the  Old  Testa¬ 
ment  are  numerous.  For  the  expression  “bread  of  heaven,”  see  Ps.  cv.  40  ; 
compare  Ps.  lxxviii.  15,  16,  20. 

1  Professor  Sanday,  The  Expositor  (1892),  p.  287.  McGiffert  judges  cor¬ 
rectly  ( Apostolic  Age,  p.  488,  n.  2)  :  “Aside  from  the  term  ‘Logos,’  which  is 
confined  to  the  prologue,  there  is  no  trace  of  Philo’s  term  ‘  Logos.’  In  fact 
there  is  more  than  one  passage  which  runs  exactly  counter  to  all  Philo’s 
thinking  (cf.,  e.g.,  vi.  37,  44,  66,  x.  29).  In  the  light  of  this  fact,  the  use  of 
the  term  ‘  Logos  ’  proves  little.  It  was  doubtless  already  widely  current  in 
Hellenistic  circles,  and  the  author  adopted  it  and  put  it  in  the  fore  part  of  his 
Gospel,  simply  because  he  was  convinced  that  all  that  his  contemporaries 
found  in  the  Logos,  he  and  his  fellow-disciples  actually  had  in  Christ  in  visible 
form.” 


288  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


is  no  such  resemblance  between  the  Gospel  and  the  Pauline 
Epistles  as  to  imply  that  the  Evangelist  was  dependent  for  his 
doctrine  upon  the  apostle.  Nothing  is  more  precarious  than 
inferences  of  this  sort  drawn  from  phraseology  in  which  “  light  ” 
furnishes  a  basis  for  metaphor. 

It  is  the  union  of  the  independence  of  the  Gospel  with  its  unsought 
harmony  with  the  theology  of  Paul  that  is  an  impressive  fact.  This 
appears,  not  only  in  the  conception  of  the  person  of  Christ,  but  in 
various  other  particulars.  John  teaches  that  “life”  begins  here,  in  the 
knowledge  of  God  and  of  his  Son  (John  iii.  36;  1  John  v.  12).  Life 
inseparable  from  fellowship  with  Christ  is  the  truth  on  which  emphasis 
is  laid.  Judgment  is  here  :  the  gospel  does  its  own  work  of  separation 
by  testing  and  revealing  the  affinities  of  the  heart ;  yet  the  objective, 
atoning  work  of  Christ  is  not  ignored,  nor  is  the  resurrection  and  the 
final  awards  (John  iii.  14,  15,  v.  28,  29;  1  John  i.  7,  ii.  2).  Paul  con¬ 
nects  the  breaking  down  of  the  wall  of  separation  between  Jew  and 
Gentile  with  the  death  of  Christ  (Gal.  iii.  13,  14).  In  remarkable  har¬ 
mony  with  this  conception  are  the  words  of  Jesus  when  he  was  informed 
(John  xii.  20  seg.)  that  Greeks  who  had  come  up  to  the  passover  de¬ 
sired  to  see  him.  It  was  a  sign  to  him  that  his  hour  had  come.  The 
corn  of  wheat,  in  order  not  to  “  abide  alone,”  but  that  it  might  bear 
fruit,  must  “  fall  into  the  ground  and  die.” 

In  the  forefront  of  the  Gospel  stands  the  announcement,  “  The 
Word  became  flesh.”  To  support  the  groundless  opinion  that  to 
the  Evangelist  the  incarnation  was  a  circumstance  of  no  account, 
*a  Docetic  junction  of  the  Logos  with  the  man  Jesus,  Baur  erro¬ 
neously  makes  the  verses  9-14  refer  to  the  preexistent  word. 
They  refer  to  the  incarnate  Christ.  The  unprejudiced  reader  of 
the  Gospel  cannot  fail  to  perceive  that  it  is  the  historic  Jesus,  as 
he  had  lived,  taught,  consorted  with  his  disciples,  hung  upon  the 
cross,  and  risen  from  the  tomb,  on  whom  the  attention  of  the  Evan¬ 
gelist  centres.  “  The  prevalence,  nay,  the  ubiquity,  of  the  Messi¬ 
anic  idea  is  the  key  to  the  motive  of  the  narrative.”  This  truth  is 
illustrated,  fully  and  ably,  by  Harnack.1 

“As  strongly,”  says  Loofs,  “as  the  deity  of  Christ  is  emphasized  in 
the  Gospel  of  John,  as  indubitably  as  Christ  appears  as  a  preexistent 
subject  (i.  14,  viii.  58,  xvii.  5),  even  so  without  reserve  is  Christ  called 
a  man  (viii.  40,  x.  33,  xi.  47,  50).  The  narrative  tells  of  his  becoming 
tired  and  thirsting  (iv.  61 ),  of  his  weeping  (xi.  35),  of  his  being  troubled 
in  spirit  (xii.  37),  of  his  brothers  (vii.  3),  of  his  solicitude  for  his 


1  See  the  references  above. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  289 


mother  (xix.  16  seq .)  ;  yea,  the  Evangelist  even  lets  him  speak  of  his 
God  and  our  God  (xx.  17).  From  all  Docetism  is  the  Gospel  as  far 
as  possible  removed  (cf.  1  John  iv.  3).  Even  by  the  corpse  the  Evan¬ 
gelist  in  the  most  solemn  manner  authenticates  the  reality  of  the  cor¬ 
poreal  manifestation  of  the  Lord  (xix.  34).'n  1  Loofs  differentiates 
this  view  from  the  “  caricature  of  the  Johannean  theology  11  by  Holtzman, 
Pfleiderer,  and  others. 

The  plea  that  the  type  of  doctrine  in  the  fourth  Gospel  is  an 
a  priori  construction  on  the  basis  of  an  abstract  idea,  borrowed 
from  Alexandrian  Jewish  philosophy,  has  no  foothold. 

The  argument  on  the  side  adverse  to  the  genuineness  of  the 
Gospel,  so  far  as  its  contents  are  concerned,  must  rest,  if  it  has  a 
resting-place  anywhere,  on  the  alleged  inconsistency  of  the 
Johannean  history  of  Jesus  with  the  Synoptical  narratives. 

In  the  first  place,  the  argument  professes  or  implies  a  misjudg- 
ment  respecting  the  Synoptic  Gospels.  They  make  no  claim  to  be 
full  biographies,  and  manifestly  this  character  does  not  belong  to 
them.  They  are  made  up  of  materials  —  partly  of  short  sayings  and 
parables  —  that  would  most  easily  lodge  in  the  memory  and  be 
transmitted  orally.  As  far  as  incidents  in  distinction  from  teaching, 
are  concerned,  the  current  critical  opinion  accepts  Mark  as  one  of 
the  principal  sources.  It  was  made  use  of  by  the  first  and  the  third5 
Evangelists.  It  is  obvious  that  this  document  is  an  invaluable 
sketch,  but  still  a  bare  sketch,  of  the  ground  which  it  covers.  It 
is  an  account  at  second-hand,  not  the  writing  of  an  apostle.  Why 
should  it  be  assumed  that  the  second  Gospel  is  to  be  the  gauge 
for  determining  what  credit  shall  be  given  to  the  fourth  ?  That  it 
was  written  first  warrants  no  such  inference.  Prior  to  an  investi¬ 
gation  of  the  contents  of  the  two  sources,  the  fourth,  to  say  the 
least,  has  a  claim  to  equal  confidence.  Until  the  tradition  of  the 
Church  has  been  disproved,  the  precedence  belongs  to  its  author 
as  being  an  intimate  follower  of  Jesus.  Even  if,  as  some  main-  , 
tain,  a  non-apostolic  author  who  was  a  disciple  of  John  supple¬ 
mented  and  edited  the  apostle’s  writing,  this  author  stands  on  a 
level  with  Mark.  Not  a  few  critics,  when  the  origin  and  credibil-  i 
ity  of  the  fourth  Gospel  are  under  discussion,  assume  at  the  start 
for  the  Synoptics  a  precedence  as  authorities  which  is  not  justified  | 
by  the  canons  of  historical  criticism. 

Our  second  remark  pertains  to  the  relation  of  the  Synoptics  to 

1  Realencykl.  fur  prot.  Theol.  u.  K .,  ed.  3,  vol.  iv.  p.  29. 

U 


2 QO  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


one  another.  The  circumstance  that  Mark’s  Gospel  is  thought  to 
have  been  one  of  the  principal  sources  of  the  narrative  matter  in 
Matthew  and  in  Luke,  is  fallaciously  used  to  lessen  comparatively 
the  credit  of  these  two  authorities.  Mark  is  cited  by  not  a  few  as 
“  the  oldest  authority,”  and  the  contents  of  his  Gospel  as  “  the 
earliest  tradition,”  —  only  the  Logia  of  Matthew  being  older.  But 
there  is  nothing  to  oblige  us  to  suppose  that  the  narrative  matter 
in  Luke  (for  example)  which  Mark  does  not  contain,  is  from  any 
“  later  ”  source  than  Mark’s  narrative.  The  long  passage  which 
belongs  to  Luke  exclusively,  from  ch.  ix.  51  to  ch.  xviii.  14, 
embraces  materials  as  trustworthy  and  as  “  early  ”  (if  we  look  at 
the  sources  whence  Luke  derived  them)  as  the  accounts  given 
by  Mark.  We  know  that  Mark  does  not  record  the  greater  part  of 
the  sayings  of  Jesus  which  were  in  the  Logia  of  Matthew.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  he  omitted  to  gather  up  much  more  besides,  which 
another  inquirer,  like  Luke,  might  have  ascertained  from  “  eye¬ 
witnesses  and  ministers  of  the  word.”  To  reject  historical  ac¬ 
counts,  therefore,  or  summarily  to  set  them  on  a  lower  footing, 
merely  because  they  are  not  comprised  in  an  historical  sketch  as 
brief  as  that  of  Mark,  is  quite  without  warrant.  Forthwith  to 
assign  additional  circumstances,  or  variations  of  statement,  in  a 
parallel  account  of  Matthew  or  of  Luke,  to  a  “  second  ”  or  later 
evangelic  tradition,  is  frequently,  to  say  the  least,  to  build  upon 
imagination  rather  than  logic.  The  amount  of  detail  in  an  his¬ 
torical  document  is  no  sure  criterion  of  its  age. 

In  the  third  place,  it  is  clear  that,  on  the  supposition  of  the 
apostolic  authorship  of  the  fourth  Gospel,  a  certain  subjective  ele¬ 
ment  is  perceptible  in  its  contents.  Imagine  that  an  aged  dis¬ 
ciple,  who  has  long  been  in  the  habit  of  musing  on  the  doings  and 
the  sayings  of  Jesus,  undertakes  to  set  down  his  reminiscences. 
Might  he  not  be  spontaneously  led  to  tell  the  tale  in  his  own  lan¬ 
guage?  Would  it  be  strange  if  it  were  to  be  tinged  with  a  hue 
imparted  by  his  own  meditations?  Should  it  even  occasion  sur¬ 
prise  if,  here  and  there,  in  his  recalling  of  what  Christ  said,  there 
were  to  mingle,  without  advertisement  to  the  reader,  an  explana¬ 
tory  comment?  This  suggestion  does  not  imply  that  the  Gospel 
resembles  even  remotely  that  species  of  biography  (or  autobiogra¬ 
phy)  which  goes  under  the  name  of  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit — 
wherein  truth  and  poesy  are  of  set  purpose  indistinguishablv 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  29 1 


blended.  We  are  only  required  to  assume  that  the  acts  and  words 
of  the  Master  are  steeped,  rather  than  mechanically  held,  in  the 
memory  of  the  devoted  disciple.  Moreover,  the  effect  of  conden¬ 
sation,  the  signs  of  which  are  sometimes  apparent  to  the  reader, 
must  be  taken  into  account.  It  need  not  occasion  surprise  if  in  New 
Testament  narratives  the  ancient  habit  of  using  the  oratio  recta 
in  reports  of  discourses  and  conversation  should  be  exemplified. 

The  longer  ministry  of  Jesus  —  extending  to  at  least  two  years 
and  a  half,  and  probably  to  three  years  and  a  half — and  his 
extended  labors  in  Judaea  are  prominent  features  with  the  fourth 
Evangelist.  But  the  Evangelist’s  representation  of  the  life  and 
ministry  of  Christ,  although  independent,  is  not  in  conflict  with 
that  of  the  Synoptics.  The  “country”  of  Jesus,  it  is  to  be 
observed,  is  still  Galilee;  for  this  is  the  right  interpretation  of 
John  iv.  44.  What  the  Galileans  had  seen  him  do  in  Jerusalem 
excited  in  Galilee,  on  his  return,  an  interest  in  him  not  manifested 
before.  Luke,  in  the  long  passage  relating  to  the  last  journey  of 
Jesus  to  Jerusalem  (ix.  51  to  xviii.  14),  brings  together  matter  of 
which  a  portion  appears  to  have  its  place  in  the  Judaean  ministry. 
Independently  of  such  particulars  as  the  relation  of  Christ  to  the 
family  of  Mary  and  Martha,  the  lament  of  Jesus  over  Jerusalem 
(Luke  xiii.  34  seq. ;  Matt,  xxiii.  37  seq. )  requires  us  to  assume 
that  he  had  frequently  taught  there.  “  How  often,”  —  these  words 
in  this  lament  must  have  included  more  than  one  short  visit.  The 
apostrophe  plainly  refers  to  the  city,  not  to  the  Jewish  people  as  a 
whole,  to  whom  Baur,  and  not  he  alone,  would  arbitrarily  apply  it. 
In  Luke,  the  preceding  verse  reads,  “  For  it  cannot  be  that  a 
prophet  perish  out  of  Jerusalem This  passage  establishes  on 
the  authority  of  the  Synoptics  the  fact  of  the  longer  Judaean  min¬ 
istry  of  Jesus,  and  so  endorses  the  testimony  of  the  fourth  Gospel 
in  this  important  particular.  Luke  (vi.  1)  distinctly  implies  the 
intervention  of  at  least  one  passover  after  the  beginning  and  before 
the  close  of  his  public  life.  The  deep  and  abiding  impression 
made  by  Jesus  is  far  less  a  mystery  if  we  accept  the  chronology  of 
the  fourth  Gospel  than  if  we  conceive  his  activity  to  have  been 
confined  to  about  a  twelvemonth.  The  truth  appears  to  be,  that 
in  the  early  oral  narration  of  the  life  and  teaching  of  Christ, 
perhaps  for  the  reason  that  his  labors  in  Jerusalem  and  the  neigh¬ 
borhood  were  already  more  familiar  to  the  Christians  there,  it  was 
mainly  the  Galilean  ministry  that  was  described.  The  matter  was 


292  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


massed  under  the  three  general  heads  of  his  baptism  and  inter¬ 
course  with  John  the  Baptist,  his  work  in  Galilee,  and  the  visit  to 
Jerusalem  at  the  passover,  when  he  was  crucified. 

If  the  author  of  the  fourth  Gospel  was  not  John,  but  a  disciple  of  the 
apostle,  or  if  he  was  some  other  immediate  disciple  of  Jesus  himself, 
no  explanation  can  be  given  for  the  assumed  erroneous  chronology. 
The  author,  whoever  he  was,  could  easily  have  brought  Jesus  more  fre¬ 
quently  into  conflict  with  the  Pharisees,  if  that  were  his  purpose,  in 
other  places  than  in  Judaea.  He  might  have  interposed  visits  between 
the  two  passovers.  Why  should  he  set  up  a  false  chronological  scheme 
which  could  only  tend  to  arouse  suspicion?  The  writer,  whoever  he 
was,  was  evidently  acquainted  with  one,  if  not  all,  of  the  earlier  Gos¬ 
pels.1  Why  did  he  not  set  his  new  portrait  into  the  old  frame?  It  is 
reasonable  to  think  that  it  was  because  he  was  conversant  with  the 
facts,  and  consciously  had  such  an  acknowledged  authority  in  the 
Church  that  he  had  no  reason  to  fear  contradiction. 

The  cleansing  of  the  temple  (John  ii.  13  seq .)  is  connected  in 
the  Synoptics  with  the  last  passover,  this  being  the  only  passover 
with  which,  in  their  scheme  of  chronology,  it  could  be  placed. 
The  cleansing  of  the  temple  may  well  have  occurred  at  the  time 
assigned  to  it  in  the  fourth  Gospel.  The  booths  of  “  the  sons  of 
Annas”  had  become  a  scandal  among  the  Jews.  His  feeling  re¬ 
specting  the  temple,  even  in  childhood,  had  been  expressed  in 
his  question  to  his  parents,  “  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  in  my 
Father’s  House?”  (Luke  i.  49).  The  holy  indignation  prompting 
to  the  expulsion  of  the  money-changers,  this  outbreaking  of  pro¬ 
phetic  energy,  would  naturally  stifle  any  disposition  to  resist  him. 
The  impression  just  made  on  the  people  at  large  by  the  vehement 
rebukes  of  John  the  Baptist  would  have  a  like  effect.  Renan  sees 
this  to  be  probable. 

Another  subject  of  comparison  between  the  fourth  Gospel  and 
the  Synoptics  relates  to  the  day  of  the  month  when  Christ  was 
crucified.  Was  the  Friday  of  the  crucifixion  the  14th,  or  the  15th, 
of  the  month  Nisan?  And  was  the  Last  Supper  on  the  usual  day 
of  the  passover  meal,  or  on  the  evening  before  ?  Many  scholars 
are  of  opinion  that  here  is  a  discrepancy  between  the  fourth  Evan¬ 
gelist  and  the  other  three ;  that  he,  unlike  them,  makes  the  Last 
Supper  to  have  occurred  on  the  evening  prior  to  the  day  on  which 
the  passover  lamb  was  killed  and  eaten,  and  the  crucifixion  to 
have  taken  place  on  the  next  morning.  Bleek,  Neander,  Weiss, 

1  See,  e.g.y  John  iii.  24. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  293 


Westcott,  Ellicott,  and  numerous  others,  admit  the  discrepancy, 
but  argue  in  support  of  the  accuracy  of  the  fourth  Gospel  in  this 
particular.1  Some  of  the  proofs  are  drawn  from  incidental  re¬ 
marks  by  the  Synoptists  themselves,  and  from  the  anterior  proba¬ 
bility,  since  the  passover  itself  was  a  sacred  festival.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  has  been  contended  that  the  author  of  the  fourth  Gospel 
purposely  misdated  these  events  in  order  to  make  the  crucifixion 
synchronize  with  the  slaying  of  the  paschal  lamb,  his  intent  being 
to  instil  the  idea  that  the  passover  is  superseded  by  the  offering  of 
Christ,  “  the  Lamb  of  God.”  If  the  discrepancy  really  exists,  it 
furnishes  no  ground  for  ascribing  the  inaccuracy  to  the  fourth  Gos¬ 
pel.  The  motive  assigned  by  the  Tubingen  school  for  the  alleged 
falsification  of  the  date  is  insufficient.  In  the  first  place,  if  the 
author  of  the  Gospel  had  wanted  to  exhibit  Christ  as  the  antitype 
of  the  paschal  lamb,  he  had  no  need  to  alter  the  received  chronol¬ 
ogy.  Christ  is  termed  by  Paul  “our  passover”  (1  Cor.  v.  7). 
In  the  second  place,  it  is  not  certain  even  that  the  Evangelist  in¬ 
tends  to  ascribe  this  character  to  Christ.  The  appellation  “  Lamb 
of  God  ”  may  have  been  taken,  not  from  Ex.  xxix.  38  seq ., 
but  from  Isa.  liii.  7.  It  is  more  probable  that  the  passage 
quoted  by  the  Evangelist,  “  A  bone  of  him  shall  not  be  broken  ” 
(xix.  36),  is  cited  from  Ps.  xxxiv.  20  than  from  the  law  rela¬ 
tive  to  the  paschal  offering  (Ex.  xii.  46;  Num.  ix.  12). 2  Had 
the  Evangelist  thought  that  the  minute  identification  of  Jesus  with 
the  paschal  lamb  was  so  very  important  that  he  would  venture  to 
set  up  a  false  date  in  the  teeth  of  the  received  Gospels,  he  would 
have  been  likely  to  make  the  parallelism  plain  to  the  reader.  He 
would  not  have  been  content  with  a  very  obscure  suggestion.  The 
author  of  the  Gospel,  whoever  he  was,  was  a  devout  believer  in 
Jesus.  How,  then,  could  he  himself  have  thought  it  a  vital  matter 
that  Christ,  as  the  antetype  of  the  paschal  lamb,  should  die  on  the 
14th  of  Nisan,  if  he  knew  that  it  was  not  the  fact? 

The  Quartodeciman  observance  in  Asia  Minor  is  a  topic  closely  con¬ 
nected  with  the  foregoing.  That  was  on  the  14th  of  Nisan.  But  what 

1  The  fourth  Gospel  was  thought  to  agree  with  the  Synoptics  by  Dr.  E. 
Robinson,  Wieseler,  Tholuck,  Norton  ;  Keil,  Komm.  ilber  das  Evang.  d.  Matt., 
pp.  513-528  ;  Luthardt,  Komm.  ilber  das  Evang.  Johann  ;  McLellan,  The  New 
I'estament,  etc.,  vol.  i.  pp.  473-494  ;  and  others.  The  current  of  critical  opinion 
is  in  the  opposite  direction. 

2  See  Hutton’s  thoughtful  essay  on  John’s  Gospel  ( Essays ,  vol.  i.  p.  195)  ; 
Weiss-Meyer,  Komm.  (John  xix.  36). 


294  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


did  it  commemorate?  Many  scholars  have  thought  that  it  was  the  cru¬ 
cifixion  of  Jesus.  If  this  be  so,  it  supports  that  interpretation  of  the 
fourth  Gospel  which  would  make  it  set  the  crucifixion  on  the  morning 
before  the  paschal  lamb  was  killed  and  eaten,  and  at  the  same  time  it 
confirms  the  Evangelist’s  testimony  on  this  point.  But  since  the  able 
essay  of  Schiirer,  his  opinion,  which  agrees  substantially  with  that  de¬ 
fended  earlier  by  Bleek  and  Gieseler,  has  gained  favor,  that  the  Quarto- 
deciman  Supper  on  the  evening  of  the  14th  of  Nisan  was  at  the  outset 
the  Jewish  passover,  kept  at  the  usual  time,  but  transformed  into  a 
Christian  festival.  John  found  the  festival  in  being  when  he  came  to 
Asia  Minor,  and  may  well  have  left  it  to  stand,  “whether  he  regarded 
the  13th  or  the  14th  as  the  day  of  the  Last  Supper.”1  It  is  certain 
that  when  the  controversy  about  the  festival  was  rife,  the  defenders  of 
the  Quartodeciman  practice  in  Asia  found  nothing  in  the  fourth  Gospel 
to  clash  with  their  views,  and  appealed  in  behalf  of  their  rite  to  the 
authority  of  the  apostle  John.  Polycrates,  Bishop  of  Ephesus,  toward 
the  end  of  the  second  century,  pointed  back  to  his  example,  designating 
him  as  the  apostle  “  who  leaned  on  the  bosom  of  the  Saviour.”  It  ap¬ 
pears  quite  astonishing  that  a  Gospel  should  have  been  composed  in  a 
spirit  of  antagonism  to  the  tenet  of  the  Quartodecimans,  but  have 
treated  the  matter  so  obscurely  that  their  leaders  failed  to  discover  in  it 
anything  opposed  to  their  custom.  It  is  not  agreed  what  precise  posi¬ 
tion  on  the  paschal  controversy  was  taken  by  Apollinaris,  Bishop  of 
Hierapolis,  the  successor,  and  it  may  be  the  next  successor,  of  Papias, 
in  the  second  century.  But  this  is  known,  that  he  recognized  the 
fourth  Gospel,  and  made  his  appeal  to  it.  We  may  dismiss  the  Quarto¬ 
deciman  discussion,  since  it  affords,  even  in  the  view  of  some  of  the 
ablest  opponents  of  the  Johannean  authorship  of  the  fourth  Gospel,  of 
whom  Schiirer  is  one,  no  support  for  their  opinion  on  this  subject. 

The  character  and  mission  of  John  the  Baptist,  what  he  did 
and  said,  and  his  attitude  in  relation  to  Christ  and  the  gospel, 
were  evidently  of  very  deep  interest  to  the  author  of  the  fourth 
Gospel.  In  considering  the  statements  of  the  Evangelist  on  this 
subject,  we  must  bear  in  mind  that,  as  John  the  Baptist  stood  at  a 
point  of  transition  from  one  stage  of  development  to  a  higher,  so 
the  apostle  John,  having  shared  in  this  experience,  had  advanced 
beyond  its  earlier  stage,  and  looked  back  upon  it  with  the  clear 
perception  of  its  nature  which  was  gained  from  his  advanced 
point  of  view.  Neander,  with  his  usual  historical  sagacity,  has 
commented  on  the  effect  of  this  new  enlightenment. 

“Truths  not  seen  clearly  by  John  the  Baptist  stood  clearly  before 
the  mind  of  the  Evangelists.  But  this  very  fact  may  have  caused  the 
1  Schiirer,  Zeitschr.  fur  hist.  Theol. ,  1870,  pp.  182  seq. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  295 


obscurity  which  we  find  in  their  accounts  of  the  Baptist.  .  .  .  If, 
therefore,  we  find  on  close  inquiry  that  the  historical  statements  are 
somewhat  obscured  by  subjective  influences,  our  estimate  of  their  verity 
need  be  in  no  wise  affected  thereby.”  1 

It  requires  no  argument  to  confirm  the  statement  of  the  Gos¬ 
pels  that  Jesus  was  brought  into  a  close  relation  to  John  the  Bap¬ 
tist.  Had  he  not  been,  considering  the  widespread  excitement 
which  was  kindled  by  the  preacher  in  the  wilderness,  whose  power¬ 
ful  influence  is  attested  by  Josephus,  there  would  be  cause  for 
wonder.  Nazareth  was  a  village,  but  it  was  not  an  obscure 
village.  From  the  hills  around  it,  “  which  were  everywhere 
within  the  limits  of  the  village  boys’  playground,”  could  be 
seen  the  valley  of  the  Jordan  as  well  as  the  waters  of  the  Medi¬ 
terranean.  Caravans  from  the  fords  of  the  river  could  be  watched 
as  they  wound  around  the  base  of  the  plain  on  which  the  village 
stood.2 

Nothing  can  be  plainer  than  that  the  Evangelist  meant  his 
readers  to  understand  that  Jesus  was  baptized  by  John  (John  i. 
32-34),  although  even  this  has  been  questioned.  When  Mat¬ 
thew’s  relation  (iii.  13-17)  is  compared  with  the  parallel  synoptical 
accounts,  the  reasonable  conclusion  is  that  the  vision  of  the  Bap¬ 
tist  gave  him  the  full  assurance  that  Jesus  was  in  truth  the  Mes¬ 
siah.  This  does  not  exclude  the  supposition  that  a  simultaneous 
vision  confirmed  Jesus  himself  in  the  consciousness  of  his  Messianic 
mission.  The  subsequent  exclamation  ascribed  to  John  the  Bap¬ 
tist  (vs.  29),  when  he  saw  Jesus  approaching,  “Behold  the  Lamb 
of  God,”  etc.,  may  have  been  an  outburst  of  devout  enthusiasm 
which  sprung  from  a  prescience,  growing  out  of  his  own  experi¬ 
ence,  that  a  mortal  struggle  with  the  corrupt  part  of  the  people 
awaited  the  heaven-sent  Messiah.3 

Besides  this  matter  of  the  circumstances  attending  the  baptism 
of  Jesus,  the  entire  narrative  in  the  fourth  Gospel  of  his  relations 
to  the  Forerunner  furnishes  to  some  critics  a  reason  for  impeach¬ 
ing  its  credibility.4  In  the  Synoptics  the  imprisonment  of  John 

1  Neander,  Leben  Jesu,  pp.  69  seq. ;  American  translation,  p.  46  seq. 

2  See  Professor  George  Adam  Smith,  Historical  Geography  of  the  Holy 

Land,  pp.  432,  433.  3  See  Neander,  Leben  Jesu,  pp.  260,  261. 

4  Eg.,  on  the  passage  quoted  and  the  context,  Reville  says,  “  C’etait  en¬ 
core  une  maniere  de  faire  ressortir  la  superiorite  de  Jesus.”  Jesus  de  Naza¬ 
reth,  vol.  ii.  p.  20,  n. 


296  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


follows  immediately  upon  the  account  of  the  temptation  of  Jesus. 
When  he  heard  of  this  imprisonment,  “  Jesus  withdrew  into  Gali¬ 
lee.”  Then  followed  the  call  to  Peter,  to  his  brother  Andrew,  to 
John  and  to  James,  to  attach  themselves  to  him  as  his  followers. 
In  John  there  intervenes  an  account  of  the  connection  of  the 
first  three  with  John  the  Baptist,  how  he  pointed  out  Jesus  to  John 
and  i\.ndrew,  who  spent  the  day  with  him,  and  how,  the  next  day, 
Andrew  brought  to  Jesus  his  brother  Simon  Peter.  Then  follows 
the  journey  to  Capernaum  and  the  brief  stay  there  prior  to  the 
visit  of  Jesus  to  Jerusalem  to  attend  the  passover.  Learning  that 
the  Pharisees  had  heard  that  he  was  baptizing  more  disciples  than 
John,  he  left  Judaea  again  for  Galilee.  The  Evangelist  takes  pains 
to  correct  the  impression  as  to  the  chronology,  which  the  Synoptics 
would  make,  by  saying  explicitly  that  at  this  time  “John  was  not 
yet  cast  into  prison”  (iii.  24).  The  question  is  whether  in  all 
this  we  have  truth  or  invention.  The  negative  criticism  does  not 
hesitate  to  affirm  that  we  have  in  all  this  a  falsification  of  history. 
It  is  a  pretty  hard  accusation ;  but  let  us  look  at  the  probabilities 
in  the  case.  The  order  of  occurrences  in  the  first  and  third  Gos¬ 
pels,  the  critics  assure  us,  follows  that  in  Mark.  In  his  narrative 
we  are  informed  that  Jesus,  walking  by  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  saw  the 
fishermen,  Peter  and  Andrew,  casting  their  nets,  and  James  and 
John.  At  his  bidding  they  immediately  quit  their  nets  and  their 
boats  and  join  him  (Mark  i.  20).  He  had  only  to  say  to  the 
first  pair,  “Come  ye  after  me  and  I  will  make  you  fishers  of  men,” 
“  And  straightway  they  left  their  nets  and  followed  him.”  He 
had  only  to  utter  a  word  of  summons  to  the  second  pair,  “  and 
they  left  their  father  Zebedee  in  the  boat  with  the  hired  servants, 
and  went  after  him.”  They  instantly  abandon  their  occupations, 
and  become  his  permanent  companions.  In  the  fourth  Gospel 
circumstances  are  related  which  explain  the  seemingly  abrupt  call 
and  the  instantaneous  compliance  with  it.  It  was  not  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  their  acquaintance  with  Jesus.  Their  connection  with  him 
before  was  loose  and  not  permanent.  They  had  met  him  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Jordan,  had  gone  with  him  into  Judaea,  and 
after  John  was  delivered  up  had  journeyed  with  him  back  to  Gali¬ 
lee.  It  need  occasion  no  surprise  that  the  brief  sketch  of  Mark 
should  begin  with  the  call  of  Peter  to  permanent  discipleship. 
That  the  Baptist  should  have  looked  to  see  the  expected  kingdom 
of  the  Messiah  set  up  in  a  visible,  impressive  form,  is  nothing  more 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  TPIE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  297 


than  what  the  chosen  disciples  of  Jesus,  when  they  had  long  been 
under  his  personal  tutelage,  had  not  surrendered  (Acts  i.  6). 
Hence,  after  waiting  in  vain  for  a  signal  manifestation  of  Messianic 
power  and  dignity  on  the  part  of  Jesus,  the  preacher  in  the  wil¬ 
derness,  immured  in  a  prisoner’s  cell,  now  that  his  own  work  had  ap¬ 
parently  ended,  grew  impatient  and  perhaps  asked  himself  whether, 
after  all,  Jesus  might  not  be  a  second  forerunner  of  the  Messiah, 
and  sent  him  a  messenger  in  order  to  set  his  mind  at  rest  (Matt, 
xi.  3).  If  the  account  of  the  acquaintance  of  Jesus  with  the 
Baptist  which  is  presented  in  the  fourth  Gospel  is  false,  who 
invented  it?  The  ablest  supporters  of  the  negative  criticism  hold 
at  present  that  either  the  apostle  John  himself,  or  one  of  his 
immediate  disciples,  or,  possibly,  another  disciple  of  Jesus  himself, 
furnished  materials  for  the  Gospel  narrative.  Whichever  it  was, 
shall  an  invention  of  this  sort  be  credited  to  him?  We  have  a 
life-like  picture  of  what  occurred.  John  sees  Jesus  coming  to  him 
and  points  him  out  to  those  about  him.  The  next  day,  when  John, 
in  the  hearing  of  two  of  his  disciples,  again  pointed  him  out,  these 
follow  him.  Jesus  turns  and  sees  them  coming  after  him.  Then 
the  further  details  are  given.  This  is  either  a  true  or  a  menda¬ 
cious  narrative.  The  notion  that  the  three  consecutive  days  in 
this  passage  are  an  artificial  triad,  and  one  of  a  number  of  like 
fictions  in  the  Gospel,  is  a  fancy  of  certain  critics.1  This  rooted 
suspicion  is  dealt  with  scornfully  even  by  one  of  the  most  radical 
of  the  writers  on  the  Introduction  to  the  New  Testament.2 

What  is  recorded  of  the  relation  of  the  Baptist  to  Jesus  after  his 
baptism  is,  in  its  main  particulars,  not  discordant  with  the  proba¬ 
bilities  in  the  case.  The  Kingdom  of  God  was  not  yet  set  up.  It 
was  still  in  the  future.  Until  the  Messiah  should  make  it  a  tangi¬ 
ble  reality,  the  work  of  the  Forerunner  in  preparing  for  it  was  to 
go  on.  Accordingly,  John  did  not  suspend  his  preparatory  work. 
He  contented  himself  with  introducing  two  or  three  of  his  most 
sympathetic  disciples  to  him  who  was  “  to  increase  ”  —  whose 

1  See  Holtzmann,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  p.  426. 

2  Jiilicher,  Einl.  in.  d.  N.  T.,  p.  238,  who  says  :  “  Eine  mit  raffinirter 
Kunst  auzgedachte  Gliederung,  einen  im  Grossen  wie  in  Kleinigkeiten  (z.  B.  i. 
1,  2,  3)  durchgefuhrten  Schematismus  von  Dreiheiten,  hat  man  in  Joh.  hinein- 
geheimnisst.  Die  meisten  dieser  Dreiheiten  diirfte  der  Verfasser  selber  nicht 
bemerkt  haben,  und  die  allerverschiedensten  Dispositionen  lassen  sich  mit 
gleichen  Rechte  als  von  ihm  beabsichtigt  vertreten,”  etc. 


298  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


influence  was  to  grow  —  while  he  himself  was  “  to  decrease.”  It 
is  natural  that  some  of  his  disciples  were  more  susceptible  than 
others,  and  that  after  the  prophet  was  taken  away  the  development 
of  his  disciples  varied.  Before  this  time,  some  of  them  were  net¬ 
tled  at  the  increasing  number  of  the  disciples  of  Jesus  (John  iii. 
26  seq .).  Later  (Acts  xix.  1  seq .)  we  hear  of  some  in  whom 
“  there  was  a  mixture  of  impressions  left  by  John  the  Baptist  with 
scattered  accounts  received  of  Christ.”  1 

The  principal  thing  relied  upon  to  disprove  the  genuineness  of 
the  fourth  Gospel  is  the  account  which  is  given  there  of  the  way 
in  which  Jesus  himself  is  known  as  the  Messiah  and  came  to  be 
recognized  as  such  by  his  disciples.  The  disclosure  was  much 
later,  it  is  said,  than  the  fourth  Evangelist  makes  it  to  be,  and  the 
perception  of  this  truth  by  the  followers  of  Jesus  was  gradual. 
Hence,  for  one  thing,  the  entire  account  in  the  Gospel  of  the  per¬ 
sonal  meeting  of  disciples  of  John  with  Jesus  is  discredited.  In 
support  of  this  principal  count  in  the  indictment  of  the  Evangelist, 
the  appeal  is  made  to  the  passage  in  Mark  (viii.  27-30),  which 
relates  the  conversation  at  Caesarea  Philippi.  We  read  that  in 
answer  to  the  question  of  Jesus,  “Who  say  ye  that  I  am?” 
Peter  avows  his  faith  in  him  as  the  Messiah,  a  declaration  for 
which  he  is  commended  by  Christ.  This  incident  is  made  the 
basis  of  the  inference  that  up  to  this  time  the  apostles  had  not 
looked  on  him  as  the  Messiah,  and  had  not  been  taught  by  Jesus 
so  to  regard  him.  This  criticism  must  assume  that  the  apostles 
had  abandoned  their  occupations,  had  left  house  and  home,  to  fol¬ 
low  Jesus,  had  listened  to  his  teachings  in  public  and  in  private, 
and  yet  had  not  recognized  him  as  the  head  of  the  promised  king¬ 
dom.  This  opinion,  in  itself  improbable,  is  disproved  even  by  what 
Mark  himself  relates  of  the  period  before  the  occurrence  of  the 
conversation  at  Caesarea  Philippi.  The  “  mightier  ”  one,  of  whom 
the  Baptist  spoke  (Mark  i.  7,  8),  whose  shoes  he  was  not  worthy 
to  stoop  down  and  unloose,  who  was  to  baptize  with  the  Holy 
Ghost,  must  have  been  understood  to  be  the  Messiah.  In  Mark 
(i.  11)  we  read  of  the  voice  from  heaven,  “  Thou  art  my  beloved 
Son.”  That  he  was  thus  at  his  baptism  styled  the  Messiah  could 

1  See  Neander,  Planting  and  Training  of  the  Church  (Robinson’s  ed.), 
p.  210.  The  observations  of  Neander  are  one  more  illustration  of  his  insight 
as  an  historical  critic.  They  suggest  a  sufficient  answer  to  Wendt’s  inferences 
from  Acts  xix.  1  seq.,  in  Das  Johannisevangelium ,  p.  14. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  299 


not  have  been  a  secret  hidden  from  the  apostles,  including  Peter. 
In  Mark  we  have  the  account  of  the  temptation,  followed  at  once 
by  the  announcement  by  Jesus  (i.  15)  that  the  “time  is  fulfilled,” 
—  the  time  which  was  to  precede  “  the  Kingdom  of  God.”  They 
did  not  ask,  or  need  to  ask,  who  was  to  be  the  King.  Had  they 
not  understood  that  the  expected  King  was  he  who  uttered  words 
like  these,  they  would  have  inquired  where  and  when  they  should 
look  for  him.  He  called  the  disciples  to  make  them  “  fishers  of 
men  ”  (Mark  i.  16).  The  demoniacs  in  the  hearing  of  the  disci¬ 
ples  hailed  him  as  the  Messiah  (eg.  Mark  i.  24),  for  the  demons, 
Mark  tells  us  (vs.  34),  “knew  him.”  They  gave  him  the  Messi¬ 
anic  title,  “Son  of  God”  (Mark  iii.  n).  In  Mark  ii.  10,  Jesus 
characterizes  himself  as  the  “  Son  of  man  ”  who  hath  power  on 
earth  to  forgive  sins.1  He  is  the  “bridegroom”  (ii.  19).  What 
else  could  it  signify  to  those  who  were  familiar  with  the  prophecy 
of  Daniel,  but  the  Messiah?  “He  is  the  Lord  of  the  Sabbath” 
(ii.  10,  27).  At  Jericho,  blind  Bartimeus  saluted  him  with  the 
Messianic  designation,  the  “Son  of  David”  (Mark  x.  47  seq.). 
The  demand  of  the  Pharisees  for  a  sign  from  heaven  (Mark  viii.  1 1) 
implies  a  well-understood  claim  on  his  part  to  be  the  predicted 
Messiah.  The  critics  generally  unite  in  holding  that  the  Evange¬ 
list  Matthew  had  in  his  hands  Mark  as  well  as  the  apostle  Mat¬ 
thew’s  Logia  (or  Discourses)  of  Jesus.  Prior  to  the  conversation 
at  Caesarea  Philippi,  according  to  Matthew,  the  disciples  had  ex¬ 
plicitly  addressed  him  as  the  Messiah  (Matt.  xiv.  33). 2  The  peo¬ 
ple,  into  whose  minds  the  Pharisees  had  infused  doubts,  exclaimed 
on  seeing  a  miracle  of  healing,  “  Is  this  the  Son  of  David  ?  ”  (Matt, 
xii.  23,  and  xii.  1  seq.).  Could  the  disciples,  when  they  listened 
to  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  in  which  there  was  an  avowed  exer¬ 
cise  of  supreme  legislative  authority,  a  proclamation  of  the  laws  of 
the  new  kingdom,  a  contrast  asserted  to  exist  between  him  who 
spoke  and  the  prophets,  fail  to  discern  that  it  was  no  other  than 

1  The  title  “  Son  of  man  ”  in  the  New  Testament  was  obviously  derived  from 
the  designation  of  the  Messiah  in  the  book  of  Daniel.  If  it  was  not  used  by  the 
people  exclusively  as  a  Messianic  title,  it  does  not  follow  that  this  was  not  its 
meaning  when  used  by  Jesus  himself.  With  him,  it  was  a  designation,  even 
if  it  were  a  “  veiled  designation,”  of  his  Messiahship.  See  the  discussion  of 
Dr.  Stevens,  The  Theology  of  the  New  Testament,  ch.  iv. 

2  For  the  many  declarations  of  Jesus  in  Matthew  from  the  Logia  (before 
the  record  in  ch.  xvi.  13  seq.),  which  taught  the  people  as  well  as  the  disciples 
that  he  was  the  Messiah,  see  Weiss,  Leben  Jesu,  vol.  ii.  p.  260,  n. 


300  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


the  Messiah  to  whom  they  were  listening?  Peter’s  glowing  ex¬ 
pression  of  faith  at  Caesarea  Philippi  was  a  spontaneous  utterance. 
It  was  not  elicited  as  a  response  to  any  assertion  of  Jesus  that  he 
was  the  Messiah.  The  question  was  simply,  “  Who  say  ye  that 
I  am?”  The  inquiry  was  occasioned  by  the  falling  away  of  the 
populace,  who  had  wanted  to  make  Jesus  a  king,  but  whose  hopes 
were  disappointed  by  his  failure  to  encourage  them  in  their  scheme. 
Their  enthusiasm  was  chilled.  Was  it  possible  that  similar  mis¬ 
givings  were  rising,  too,  in  the  minds  of  the  disciples  from  the 
disappointment  of  their  hopes?  The  question  put  by  Jesus  was  a 
test.  It  proved  that  while  the  people  had  fallen  away  from  this 
faith,  the  disciples  stood  firm.  “  A  renewed  spiritual  faith  in  the 
Messiah  after  all  worldly  Messianic  hopes  had  been  crushed  ” 
shone  out.2  The  fourth  Gospel  (John  vi.  66  seqi)  records  a  like 
or  the  same  conversation,  when  Jesus  said,  “Would  ye  also  go 
away?  ”  The  Galilean  following  had  actually  melted  away. 

When  the  Gospels  are  fairly  studied  they  yield  a  consistent  and 
in  itself  probable  view  of  the  course  pursued  by  Jesus  in  the  dis¬ 
closure  of  his  Messianic  calling.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  not 
a  hint  in  the  records  of  any  denial  of  it  on  his  part,  or  of  a  syl¬ 
lable  from  his  lips  that  might  tend  to  mislead  in  this  particular 
those  who  heard  him.  In  the  second  place,  his  Messianic  office 
is  kept  in  the  background.  There  is  an  habitual  endeavor  to 
prevent  the  exalted  character  of  his  mission  from  being  noised 
abroad.  When  he  wrought  miracles,  we  find  connected  with  them 
an  injunction  imposing  silence  on  one  and  another  recipient  of 
the  blessing  imparted.  At  Caesarea  Philippi  (Mark  viii.  30 ;  Matt, 
xvi.  20)  he  only  followed  his  custom  when  he  charged  the  disciples 
to  “  tell  no  man  that  he  was  the  Christ.”  So  after  the  transfigura¬ 
tion  they  were  to  “  tell  the  vision  to  no  man.”  His  motive  was 
to  forestall  a  popular  demonstration  arising  out  of  mistaken, 
worldly  anticipations  on  the  part  of  the  multitude.  There  was 
an  imminent  danger  to  guard  against.  Evidently  his  aim  was 
to  instil  that  belief  without  raising  a  commotion.  He  wanted  the 
belief  in  him  as  the  Messiah  to  take  root.  He  wanted  it  to  become 
strong  enough  to  meet  the  trials  it  would  have  to  encounter,  and 
become  more  and  more  stable  and  confident,  all  the  while  keeping 

1  See  Weiss-Meyer,  Komm.  in  Johann .,  ad  loc. 

2  Weiss,  Leben  Jesu ,  E.  Tr.,  B.  VI.,  cvi.  In  this  chapter,  Weiss’s  interpreta¬ 
tion  of  Mark  vii.  27-30  is  fully  sustained. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  301 


pace  with  the  developing  perception  of  the  spiritual  idea  of  the 
Messiah  and  of  his  work.  It  was  neither  requisite  nor  was  it  meet 
to  leave  a  few  disciples  of  John  the  Baptist,  men  who  were  waiting 
for  the  Kingdom,  in  ignorance  of  the  true  intent  and  import  of 
his  mission.  It  was  natural  that  what  they  saw  at  Cana  should 
strengthen  their  new-born  faith.  “  His  disciples  believed  on  him  ” 
(John  ii.  11)  ;  that  is,  they  were  inspired  afresh  with  the  convic¬ 
tion  of  his  Messiahship,  instilled  into  them  in  their  first  interviews 
with  him.  The  early  part  of  the  ministry  of  Jesus,  his  Judaic 
teaching  in  that  period,  and  the  first  passover  do  not  belong  in 
the  plan  of  the  Synoptics.  But  the  reference  of  what  was  said 
by  him  in  John  ii.  19  and  iii.  14  of  the  temple,  and  of  the  serpent 
lifted  up,  to  his  death,  was  an  afterthought  of  the  disciples.  If  the 
allusion  in  these  places  was  to  his  Messianic  work  and  to  his 
death,  the  meaning  was  hidden  from  them.1  The  story  of  his 
subsequent  intercourse  with  them  indicates  that  there  was  progress 
in  the  discipline  of  their  faith,  until  it  became  ineradicable,  despite 
the  deepening  shadows  which  preceded  and  led  up  to  the  cross. 

We  have  next  to  consider  the  discourses  of  Christ  as  given  in 
the  fourth  Gospel,  in  themselves  and  in  comparison  with  the 
reports  of  his  teaching  in  the  Synoptics.  Unquestionably  it  is  the 
distinctive  character  of  this  part  of  the  Johannean  record,  which, 
more  than  anything  else,  has  been  the  occasion  of  doubt  as  to  the 
apostolic  authorship.  It  is  an  objection  to  be  looked  fairly  in  the 
face.  It  is  only  just  to  remember  that  the  ordinary  effect  of  oral 
repetition  of  a  narrative  is  to  hold  fast  its  salient  points,  to  sift 
out,  and  perhaps  to  modify,  minor  details,  and  to  retain  whatever 
home-bred  vigor  may  belong  to  the  phraseology.  These  traits 
are  manifest  in  the  first  three  Gospels.  Again,  if  the  fourth  Gos¬ 
pel  is  made  up  of  personal  recollections  of  the  author,  it  is  not 
strange  that  it  should  reflect  in  a  measure  his  individuality. 
The  discourses  do  not  differ  materially  in  style  from  the  other 
parts  of  the  Gospel  and  from  the  first  Epistle.  No  doubt  it  must 
be  assumed,  and  it  ought  not  to  be  called  in  question,  that  the 
teaching  of  Jesus  had  been  assimilated,  and  that  what  we  have 
is  a  reproduction  mainly  in  the  author’s  own  language.  More  is 


1  On  these  passages,  judicious  remarks  may  be  read  in  the  valuable  work 
of  Dr.  Forrest,  The  Christ  of  History  and  of  Experience ,  pp.  99,  100. 


302  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


meant  than  the  turning  of  Aramaic  into  Greek.  Yet  the  process 
is  a  totally  different  thing  from  fabrication,  and  is  perfectly 
consistent  with  substantially  faithful  recollection.  Let  a  sym¬ 
pathetic  pupil  sit  at  the  feet  of  an  inspiring  teacher.  Sup¬ 
pose  the  pupil  long  after  to  set  out  to  convey  to  others,  not  only 
in  another  language,  but  perhaps  in  a  more  or  less  condensed 
form,  what  he  had  heard.  In  places  it  may  take  the  form  of  a 
digest.  It  will  be  natural  to  clothe  it  partly,  and  sometimes  alto¬ 
gether,  in  his  own  phraseology,  and  even  to  blend  with  it,  more 
or  less,  an  expository  element  to  assist  the  comprehension  of 
the  listener.  Yet  after  all  it  is  the  teacher  who  moulds  the  pupil 
and  speaks  through  him.  The  essential  conceptions  of  the  teacher 
have  become  the  staple  of  his  habitual  reflections.  The  ideas 
and  the  spirit  of  the  instructor  may  be  transmitted  to  other  minds 
more  effectually  than  could  be  done  otherwise  —  unless,  possibly, 
a  verbatim  report  of  his  discourses  were  to  be  given.  It  is  really 
a  sign  of  essential  faithfulness  in  giving  the  gist  of  the  discourses 
if  the  author  has  so  appropriated  the  Master’s  teaching  that 
here  and  there  he  glides  into  an  expansion  of  it,  without  notice 
to  the  reader.  Possibly  an  instance  is  John  iii.  11-21.  If  so, 
it  is  not  easy  to  draw  the  line  between  the  words  of  Jesus  and 
the  thought  of  the  Evangelist.  Incidentally  we  meet  with  unde¬ 
signed  tokens  of  the  correctness  of  the  Evangelist’s  memory. 
One  striking  instance  is  the  words,  “  Arise,  let  us  go  hence  ” 
(John  xiv.  31).  These  are  not  explained  in  the  text,  but  imply 
a  simultaneous  change  of  place,  —  a  rising  from  the  table,  followed 
either  by  a  continued  tarrying  in  the  room  or  a  going  forth  at  once 
toward  the  garden.  To  conceive  of  them  as  laid  into  a  fictitious 
narrative,  although  nothing  is  subjoined  to  explain  what  was  the 
action  that  followed  them,  is  absurd.1 

Who  can  doubt  that  Jesus  said  much  more,  and,  especially  in 
converse  with  his  disciples  alone,  spoke  at  times  in  a  more  continu¬ 
ous  strain  than  the  Synoptists  relate  ?  They  preserve,  for  example, 
but  a  few  sentences  uttered  by  Christ  at  the  Last  Supper.  Yet  he 
sat  with  the  disciples  a  large  part  of  the  night.  Efere,  again, 
the  peculiarity  to  be  expected  in  an  oral  tradition,  in  contrast  with 
the  more  full  and  connected  relation  of  one  who  draws  from  a 

1  If  it  be  supposed  that  there  is  a  dislocation  of  the  chapters,  the  words 
quoted  stood  in  the  original  record  of  the  discourses.  On  the  question  of 
dislocations,  see  above,  p.  268,  and  Appendix,  Note  15. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL 


store  of  personal  recollections,  is  observable.  But  in  Christ’s 
manner  of  teaching,  there  are  not  wanting  in  the  Synoptic  Gospels 
close  resemblances  to  the  method  of  instruction  as  it  appears  in 
the  discourses  in  John.  Much  is  said  of  the  use  of  symbols  in  the 
Johannean  record  of  the  teaching,  as  in  the  connecting  of  physical 
blindness  with  spiritual  (ix.  39-41).  But  how  does  this  differ 
from  such  a  saying  as,  “  Let  the  dead  bury  their  dead  ”  (Matt, 
viii.  22)  ?  It  is  said  that  frequently  in  John  figurative  expressions 
are  not  understood  by  his  disciples.  But  in  the  Synoptics  we 
read  such  statements  as,  “  Beware  of  the  leaven  of  the  Pharisees 
and  Sadducees”  (Matt.  xvi.  11)  — words  which  the  disciples  failed 
to  comprehend ;  and  “  He  that  hath  no  sword,  let  him  sell  his 
garment  and  buy  one ’’(Luke  xxii.  36),  which  the  disciples  mis¬ 
understood,  and  which  Jesus  did  not  stop  to  interpret  to  them. 
Such  an  illustration  as  that  of  the  good  shepherd  (ch.  x.)  in¬ 
dicates  the  same  mental  habit  as  that  which  dictated  the  parables 
found  in  the  first  three  Gospels.  The  close  examination  of  the 
two  authorities,  John  and  the  Synoptics,  brings  to  light  numerous 
parallelisms  in  the  mode  in  which  the  religious  thoughts  of  Christ 
are  expressed  —  resemblances  such  as  might  not  catch  the  atten¬ 
tion  of  a  cursory  reader.1 

1  On  this  topic,  see  Luthardt,  Der  Johann.  Unsprung,  etc.,  pp.  185  seq. ;  or 
Godet,  Comm.,  etc.,  pp.  189  seq. ;  also  Westcott,  Comm,  on  St.John's  Gospel 
(Am.  ed.),  pp.  lxxxii.  seq.  Among  the  passages  are:  John  ii.  19,  “Destroy 
this  temple,”  etc.  (Matt.  xxvi.  61,  xxvii.  40  ;  Mark  xiv.  58,  xv.  29)  ;  John  iv. 
44,  “A  prophet  hath  no  honor,”  etc.  (Matt.  xiii.  57  ;  Mark  vi.  4  ;  Luke  iv. 
24)  ;  John  v.  8,  “  Rise,  take  up  thy  bed,”  etc.  (Matt.  ix.  5  seq. ;  Mark  ii.  9  ; 
Luke  v.  24)  ;  John  vi.  20  (Matt.  xiv.  27  ;  Mark  vi.  50),  John  vi.  35  (Matt.  v. 
6  ;  Luke  vi.  21)  ;  John  vi.  46  (Matt.  xi.  27  ;  Luke  x.  21  seq.)  ;  John  xii.  7 
(Matt.  xxvi.  12  ;  Mark  xiv.  8)  ;  John  xii.  8  (Matt.  xxvi.  11  ;  Mark  xiv.  7)  ; 
John  xii.  25,  “  He  that  loveth  his  life,”  etc.  (Matt.  x.  39,  xiv.  25  ;  Mark  viii. 
35  ;  Luke  ix.  24)  ;  John  xii.  27,  “  Now  is  my  soul  troubled  ”  (Matt.  xxvi.  28  ; 
Mark  xiv.  34  seq.)  ;  John  xiii.  3,  “knowing  that  the  Father  had  given  all 
things  into  his  hands  ”  (Matt.  xi.  27  ;  Luke  x.  21  seq.)  ;  John  xiii.  16  (Matt.  x. 
24  ;  Luke  vi.  40)  ;  John  xiii.  20  (Matt.  x.  40  ;  Luke  x.  16)  ;  John  xiii.  21 
(Matt.  xxvi.  21  ;  Mark  xiv.  18)  ;  John  xiii.  38  (Matt.  xxvi.  34  ;  Mark  xiv.  30  ; 
Luke  xxii.  34)  ;  John  xiv.  18  (Matt,  xxviii.  20)  ;  John  xv.  20  (Matt.  x.  25)  ; 
John  xv.  21  (Matt.  x.  22)  ;  John  xvi.  32  (Matt.  xxvi.  31  ;  Mark  xiv.  27)  ;  John 
xvii.  2  (Matt,  xxviii.  18)  ;  John  xviii.  11  (Matt.  xxvi.  39,  52  ;  Mark  xiv.  36  ; 
Luke  xxii.  42)  ;  John  xviii.  20  (Matt.  xxvi.  55)  ;  John  xviii.  33  (Matt,  xxvii. 
11)  ;  John  xx.  23  (Matt.  xvi.  19  and  xviii.  18).  The  terms  “life”  and  “eter¬ 
nal  life  ”  are  found  in  Matthew,  and  are  even  interchanged  with  “  kingdom  of 
heaven.”  Compare  Matt,  xviii.  3  with  ver.  8  ;  xix.  17  with  ver.  23  ;  xxv.  34 


304  THE  GROUNDS  OP  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


The  relation  of  the  teaching  of  Jesus  in  the  Synoptics  and  in 
John  respectively  has  been  compared  to  the  relation  of  the  teach¬ 
ing  of  Socrates  in  Xenophon  to  the  representation  of  it  in  Plato. 
This  analogy,  if  not  carried  too  far,  is  just.  That  Socrates  had 
another  vein  in  his  conversations  than  is  represented  in  the  Memo¬ 
rabilia  is  indicated  occasionally  in  Xenophon’s  work.  We  have  to 
explain  how  it  happened  that  he  fascinated  Plato  as  well  as  Xeno¬ 
phon.  More  distinctly  in  the  Synoptics  appears  the  same  vein 
of  teaching  which  is  prominent  in  the  fourth  Gospel.  If  the  sig¬ 
nificance  and  importance  of  personal  union  and  fellowship  with 
Jesus  stand  out  more  conspicuously  in  this  Gospel,  still  the  differ¬ 
ence  is  one  of  degree.  The  spirit  of  the  Synoptical  teaching  is  not 
out  of  harmony  with  the  words  to  which  it  gives  a  central  place  : 

\  “  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden  and  I  will 
give  you  rest,”  etc.  (Matt.  v.  28  seq.).  The  following  words  might 
naturally  fall  from  the  same  lips,  “  Peace  I  leave  with  you ;  my 
peace  I  give  unto  you ;  not  as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto  you  ” 
(John  xiv.  27) . 

As  regards  theology,  we  meet  in  the  Synoptics  traces  of  essentially 
the  same  teaching  which  meets  us  in  the  fourth  Gospel.  The 
memorable  passage  in  Matt.  xi.  27,  “No  man  knoweth  the  Son 
but  the  Father,  neither  knoweth  any  man  the  Father  save  the  Son, 
and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son  will  reveal  him,”  is  in  substance 
and  style  identical  with  what  is  familiar  in  John.  It  is  a  specimen 
of  that  sort  of  teaching  respecting  himself  and  his  relation  to  God 
which  we  should  expect  Christ  to  impart  to  his  followers.  Is  it 
probable  that  he  would  have  left  them  quite  in  the  dark  on  those 
questions  respecting  which  they  must  have  yearned  for  light,  and 
which  are  leading  topics  in  the  fourth  Gospel?  The  institution 
of  the  Lord’s  Supper  as  it  is  recorded  in  the  Synoptics  strongly 
suggests  that  teaching  respecting  his  person  and  the  spiritual  re¬ 
ception  of  himself —  such  teaching  as  we  find  in  John  vi. —  had 

with  ver.  46  ;  ix.  45  with  ver.  47.  These  resemblances  to  the  Synoptics  are 
wholly  inartificial.  Iioltzmann’s  attempt  to  show  that  words  and  phrases  are 
culled  from  the  Synoptists  by  the  author  of  the  fourth  Gospel,  and  put  to¬ 
gether  in  a  kind  of  mosaic,  is  a  failure.  The  inference  finds  no  warrant  in 
the  data  brought  forward  to  sustain  it.  The  fourth  Gospel  is  as  far  as  possi¬ 
ble  from  being  a  composite  of  scraps  of  phraseology  picked  up  from  different 
sources.  It  has  a  homogeneous  character,  a  continuity,  a  life,  which  it  never 
could  have  had  if  it  had  been  composed  in  the  mechanical  way  supposed. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  305 


been  previously  given  to  the  disciples.  Else  how  could  his  words 
at  the  Last  Supper  have  been  intelligible  to  them?  The  concep¬ 
tion  of  his  person  in  the  Synoptical  Gospels  is  at  bottom  the  same 
as  in  the  fourth.  In  them  he  stands  forth  as  the  supreme  law¬ 
giver,  as  we  see  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  He  is  distinguished 
from  the  prophets  and  exalted  above  them.  He  is  at  last  to  judge 
the  world  of  mankind.  The  particular  point  that  is  found  in  John, 
in  distinction  from  the  other  Gospels,  is  the  explicit  doctrine  of  his 
preexistence.  It  stands  in  a  different  connection  from  the  doc¬ 
trine  as  it  appears  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews.  As  to  the  opin¬ 
ion  that  the  Evangelist  “  has  simply  put  into  the  mouth  of  Jesus 
ideas  learned  from  Paul,”  it  is  an  unproved  and  unfounded  con¬ 
clusion.  “  Such  a  method  on  the  part  of  the  author  of  the  fourth 
Gospel  would  argue  an  indifference  to  historic  truth  which  is  by 
no  means  borne  out  by  the  character  of  the  Gospel  as  a  whole.”1 

Among  the  Jews,  in  the  later  period  of  their  history  prior  to  the 
time  of  Jesus,  many  pseudonymous  works  were  composed.  This 
took  place  chiefly  among  the  Alexandrians,  but  was  not  confined 
to  them. 

Conscious  that  the  age  of  inspiration  had  gone  by,  authors  undertook 
to  set  forth,  under  the  name  of  Enoch,  Solomon,  or  some  other  worthy, 
the  lessons  which  they  thought  suited  to  the  times.  They  aspired  to 
speak  in  the  spirit  of  the  prophet  or  sage  whose  name  they  assumed. 
In  this  literary  device  there  was  often  no  set  purpose  to  deceive.  The 
practice  early  passed,  however,  into  a  more  culpable  sort  of  forgery.  It 
made  its  way  into  certain  Christian  circles  where  Judaic  and  Judaizing 
influences  prevailed.  The  distinction  between  esoteric  and  exoteric 
doctrine,  which  may  be  traced  to  the  Alexandrian  philosophy,  served 
as  a  partial  excuse  for  it.  Writings  were  fabricated  like  the  Sibylline 
Oracles  and  the  Pseudo-Clementine  Homilies.  But  pious  frauds  of 
this  nature,  as  every  one  feels,  do  violence  to  the  sense  of  truth  which 
Christianity  demands  and  fosters.  The  Gospel  brought  in  a  purer 
standard.  In  the  ancient  Church,  as  now,  books  of  this  sort  were 
earnestly  condemned  by  enlightened  Christians.  Tertullian  informs  us 
that  the  presbyter  who  was  convicted  of  writing,  in  the  name  of  Paul, 
the  Acta  Pauli  et  Theclce ,  confessed  his  offence,  and  was  deposed  from 
office.  This  incident  shows  the  natural  feeling  of  Christians  generally 
in  respect  to  this  kind  of  benevolent  imposture.  The  reader  can  judge 

1  McGiffert,  Apostolic  Age,  p.  489.  Dr.  McGiffert  proceeds  to  refute  the 
opinion  that  “  the  Evangelist  put  into  Jesus’  mouth  extended  discourses  which 
had  no  basis  whatever  in  his  actual  words.” 


X 


306  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


for  himself  what  is  the  moral  tone  of  the  Johannean  Gospel  and  Epistle. 
Did  the  author,  in  the  point  of  sound  ethical  feeling,  stand  on  the  plane 
of  the  manufacturers  of  spurious  books?  Would  such  a  man  construct, 
under  the  mask  of  an  apostle,  a  fictitious  history  of  the  Lord?  Such  a 
work,  let  it  be  noticed,  is  of  a  character  utterly  diverse  from  a  purely 
homiletic  writing. 

Both  in  ancient  and  modern  times  doubts  have  been  enter¬ 
tained  of  the  genuineness  of  the  second  Epistle  of  Peter.  But 
if  we  can  imagine  a  well-meaning  Christian,  with  a  conscience 
imperfectly  trained,  undertaking  to  compose  a  homily  under  the 
assumed  name  of  an  apostle,  that  is  something  utterly  different 
from  an  attempt  to  build  upon  the  ground,  sacred  as  it  must  have 
been  felt  to  be,  that  was  already  covered  by  the  authentic  Gospels. 
The  irreverence  of  such  a  procedure  eclipses  any  example  fur¬ 
nished  by  the  Gospels  known  to  be  apocryphal,  which  mainly  con¬ 
fine  themselves  to  the  infancy  of  Jesus  and  to  the  Virgin  Mary. 
Baur,  defending  his  position,  actually  likens  the  author  of  this 
Gospel  to  the  apostle  Paul.  Paul,  he  reminds  us,  was  not  one 
of  the  twelve.  Why,  he  inquired,  should  there  not  be  still  another 
apostle?  Think  of  the  apostle  Paul  sitting  down  to  compose  a 
religious  romance  in  the  form  of  a  history  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ! 
And  yet  the  author  of  the  fourth  Gospel,  in  point  of  moral  and 
spiritual  worth,  is  put  by  Baur  on  a  level  with  the  apostle  Paul. 

One  of  the  most  radical  opponents  of  the  Johannine  authorship, 
at  the  same  time  that  he  sets  its  date  not  later  than  about  ioo, 
frankly  says  that  its  writer  “  was  perhaps  the  greatest  Christian 
thinker  in  the  Christendom  of  that  time.” 1  In  the  Christian 
literature  of  the  second  century,  no  book  approaches  in  power 
the  fourth  Gospel.  Everything  is  of  an  inferior  quality. 

When  we  take  up  the  writings  of  the  sub-apostolic  age,  we  are  con¬ 
scious  of  an  abrupt  descent  from  the  plane  of  the  apostolic  writings. 
The  apostolic  Fathers  as  a  rule  exhibit  a  languor  which  communicates 
itself  to  the  reader.  The  epistle  of  Polycarp,  although  not  wanting  in 
good  sense  and  good  feeling,  is  not  an  exception.  The  epistle  of 
Clement  of  Rome  will  not  bear  comparison  with  the  New  Testament 
writers.  Unless  with  a  view  to  scholarly  investigation,  who  cares  to 
linger  over  the  allegories  of  Hermas?  The  anonymous  epistle  to 
Diognetus,  the  date  of  which  is  somewhere  about  the  end  of  the  second 
century,  stands  alone  in  that  era  as  a  really  spirited  composition.  It 


1  Jiilicher,  Introd.  in  d.  N.  T.,  p.  259. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTH  GOSPEL  307 


is  a  discourse  or  appeal  addressed  to  an  individual ;  but  despite  its 
rhetorical  vigor,  it  cannot  be  compared  for  a  moment  in  depth  and 
power  with  the  fourth  Gospel.  The  writings  of  that  day,  those  of 
Justin  included,  are  comparatively  faint  echoes  of  the  inspired  works  of 
the  preceding  age. 

How  can  a  book  of  the  transcendent  power  of  the  fourth  Gospel 
be  referred  to  a  period  of  decadence?  It  has  commanded  the 
reverent  sympathy  of  saints  and  scholars.  It  has  touched  the 
hearts  of  a  multitude  who  with  Martin  Luther  have  felt  it  to  be 
the  chief  Gospel,  —  the  “  Hauptevangelium.”  It  has  held  its 
throne,  age  after  age,  in  the  households  of  the  Christian  nations, 
in  every  stage  of  culture  and  civilization.  Such  a  product, 
springing  up,  like  a  flower  of  perennial  beauty,  in  the  barren 
waste  of  post-apostolic  authorship,  would  be  a  veritable  anach¬ 
ronism. 

The  two  ablest  of  the  later  critics 1  who  withhold  their  assent  to 
the  tradition  which  certifies  the  apostolic  authorship  of  the  fourth 
Gospel,  are  nevertheless  emphatic  in  declaring,  what  indeed  is 
very  plain,  that  the  Gospel  stands  in  a  palpably  close  relation  to 
the  apostle  John.  Weizsacker  doubts  not  that  it  was  written  “  under 
the  colors  —  unter  dem  Fahne  —  of  the  apostle,”  in  the  shadow  of 
his  repute  and  authority.  The  apostle,  it  is  further  said,  as  is  indi¬ 
cated  in  ch.  xxi.  23,  lived  to  an  advanced  age,  and  it  was  only 
a  short  time  after  he  died  that  the  Gospel  was  written  and  given 
out.  The  author  of  the  Gospel  and  the  school  to  which  he 
belonged  might  even  make  a  claim  to  the  name  of  the  apostle, 
because  he  had  belonged  to  their  church  and  had  been  the  head 
of  it.  Moreover,  it  is  admitted  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Logos 
may  have  sprung  up  under  his  eyes  and  been  approved  by  him,  or 
at  least  not  been  opposed.  The  apostle  was  in  truth  the  link  of 
transition  from  the  old  faith  to  its  form  in  the  Gospel.  Moreover, 
it  is  said  that  the  characteristic  features  of  personal  devotion  to 
Christ  which  pervade  the  Gospel  are  not  the  offspring  of  the  Logos 
doctrine,  but  the  outcome  of  a  living  experience.  They  could 
only  emanate  from  the  spirit  of  a  disciple  of  Jesus.  Nothing  short 
of  the  testimony  of  an  immediate  apostle,  his  intuition  of  Christ,  and 
the  simplicity  of  his  conception  of  faith  can  explain  the  taking  up 
by  one  later  of  the  Logos  idea.  What  is  depicted  in  the  two  parts 

1  Weizsacker  and  Harnack. 


308  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


of  the  Gospel,  the  first  of  which  is  the  victorious  might  of  Jesus 
over  his  enemies,  and  the  second,  his  own  attractive  irresistible 
power,  by  which  he  drew  his  disciples  to  himself,  constitutes  the 
portraiture  of  a  character  which  can  proceed  from  no  other  than 
the  soul  of  a  disciple  of  Jesus  himself,  formed  by  it  and  filled  with 
it.  The  school  of  discipleship  in  the  bosom  of  which  the  Gospel 
appeared  testifies  to  the  powerful  influence  of  the  apostle  John. 
To  his  influence  both  tendencies,  finding  their  expression  in  the 
Apocalypse  and  in  the  Gospel,  are  due.  So  writes  Weizsacker.1 
Who  the  Evangelist  was  he  does  not  undertake  to  say. 

Harnack  doubts  not  that  John,  the  son  of  Zebedee,  in  some  way 
“  stands  behind  the  fourth  Gospel.”  To  the  apostle,  to  what  he 
did  and  said,  there  are  such  references  as  to  show  conclusively 
that  to  him  the  Evangelist  stood  in  a  special  relation.  He  wrote 
with  aid  from  traditions  obtained  from  the  apostle  John,  who,  as 
the  “  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved,”  stood,  in  the  esteem  of  the 
Evangelist,  in  the  foreground  of  the  company  of  disciples.  Such, 
we  are  told,  was  the  relation  of  “John  the  Presbyter”  to  the 
apostle.  To  the  presbyter,  and  not  to  the  apostle,  Harnack; 
although  not  without  frankly  expressed  misgivings,  is  inclined  to 
attribute  the  composition  of  the  Gospel.  The  function  of 
“Apostle  and  Chief  Bishop”  of  Asia  he  would  transfer  to  John 
the  Presbyter.2 

So  far  as  lapse  of  time  is  presupposed  by  the  developed  type  of 
doctrine  which  appears  in  the  Gospel,  this  condition  is  present  in 
the  case  of  the  aged  apostle  himself,  as  in  the  case  of  either  a 
group  of  his  supposed  disciples,  or  of  any  individual  among  them, 
to  whom  our  critics  think  themselves  obliged  to  ascribe  its  compo¬ 
sition.  In  this  interval  of  thirty  years,  why  may  it  not  be  in  the 
loved  disciple’s  own  soul  that  the  conception  of  Christ  ripened 
into  that  deeper  spiritual  apprehension  of  his  person  and  teaching 
which  shines  forth  in  the  Gospel?  It  would  be  only  the  fulfilment 
of  the  prediction  and  promise  attributed  by  its  author  to  Christ. 
After  he  had  parted  from  them,  his  teaching  was  to  be  revealed  to 

1  See  his  Das  Apostolisches  Zeitalter ,  2d  ed.,  pp.  5 1 5,  51 7,  518,  51 9,  520, 
523,  526,  530,  532,  534,  537,  538.  These  ideas  are  brought  forward  and  de¬ 
veloped  at  greater  length,  but  with  some  differences,  in  Weizsacker’s  first 
principal  work,  Untersuchungen  iiber  d.  Evangelische  Geschichte,  Th.  2.  See 
second  edition  of  this  work  (1891). 

2  Die  Chronologie  d.  Altchristl.  Lit.,  vol.  i.  pp.  677,  679. 


THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  FOURTPI  GOSPEL 


309 


his  disciples  through  the  Spirit,  its  depth  of  meaning  opened  to 
their  perception.  “  He  shall  guide  you  into  all  truth.”  1  Against 
the  hypothesis  that  the  authorship  was  non-apostolic  stands  the 
affirmation  of  the  author  that  from  the  numerous  signs  wrought  by 
Jesus,  he  had  made  a  selection,  and  that  his  motive  was  that 
those  for  whom  the  Gospel  was  written  might  believe.  Thus  they 
would  have  the  blessing,  just  before  referred  to,  of  such  as  not  having 
seen,  have  yet  believed.  Herewith  belongs  the  positive  testimony 
of  the  disciples  of  the  apostle,  at  the  end  of  the  Gospel,  that  he 
himself  wrote  it.  Had  its  author  not  been  the  apostle  himself,  it  is 
unaccountable  that  his  disciples,  who  survived  him,  should  not  have 
been  aware  of  the  fact,  or  should  have  deemed  it  unimportant,  or 
not  have  let  it  be  known.  The  hypothesis  sketched  above  labors 
under  another  difficulty.  One  principal  reason  which  is  assigned 
for  rejecting  the  apostolic  authorship  is  features  of  the  narrative 
which  are  supposed  by  critics  on  that  side  of  the  question  to  clash 
with  the  Synoptics  or  to  be  on  some  other  ground  incredible.  An 
example  is  the  record  of  the  early  acquaintance  of  John  with 
Jesus  through  the  mediation  of  John  the  Baptist.  But  how  can 
we  ascribe  these  passages  to  disciples  of  the  apostle  John?  If 
they  did  not  get  these  details  from  him,  did  they  make  them  up  ? 
Since  the  isolated  objection  of  the  “  Alogi,”  in  the  shape  in  which 
it  was  made,  confirms  the  otherwise  unbroken  tradition,  that  tradi¬ 
tion  is  virtually  universal.  It  is  incredible  that  Irenaeus  mistook 
the  meaning  and  was  ignorant  of  the  belief  of  Polycarp  and  of 
other  older  contemporaries  on  a  matter  so  profound  and  so 
interesting  to  him  and  to  them. 

The  decision  relative  to  the  authorship  of  the  fourth  Gospel  lies 
between  two  hypotheses.  The  one  recognizes  the  apostle  John  ; 
himself  as  its  author.  The  other  attributes  the  Gospel  to  a  disciple 
of  the  apostle,  by  whom  matter  resting  directly  or  indirectly  on  his 
authority  was  combined  with  materials  derived  from  other  sources. 
To  the  present  writer,  the  hypothesis  which  identifies  the  Evange¬ 
list  with  the  apostle  appears  entitled  to  acceptance,  as  exposed  to 
less  weighty  objections,  besides  being  supported  by  the  concurrent 
testimonies  of  Christian  antiquity. 

1  John  xvi.  14,  xiv.  26,  xv.  26.  Cf.  Loofs,  /.  c p.  35. 


CHAPTER  XII 


THE  TRUSTWORTHINESS  OF  THE  APOSTLES’  TESTIMONY  AS  PRESENTED 

BY  THE  EVANGELISTS 

In  the  last  two  chapters  evidence  has  been  brought  forward  to 
prove  that  the  Gospels  were  written  by  apostles  and  companions 
of  apostles  ;  in  particular,  that  the  fourth  Gospel  is  rightly  attrib¬ 
uted  to  John ;  that  the  first  Gospel,  at  least  in  its  original  form, 
and  as  to  the  main  portion  of  its  contents,  had  Matthew  for  its 
author,  and  that  it  existed  in  the  Greek,  and  in  its  present  com¬ 
pass,  while  the  generation  of  the  first  disciples  of  Jesus,  by  whom 
it  was  acknowledged,  was  still  in  being ;  that  the  second  and  third 
Gospels  were  composed  by  contemporaries  who  brought  together 
the  information  which  they  had  sought  and  obtained  from  apostles, 
and  from  others  who  were  immediately  cognizant  of  the  facts. 
The  Gospels  thus  meet  one  test  of  trustworthy  historical  evidence, 
—  that  it  shall  come  from  witnesses  or  well-informed  contempo¬ 
raries.  They  present  the  information  which  the  apostles  gave  to 
their  converts  respecting  the  words  and  actions  of  Jesus.  We  have 
to  specify  reasons  why  this  testimony  is  entitled  to  credit.  Let  it 
be  understood  that  in  this  place  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
theological  doctrine  of  inspiration,  or  with  the  nature  and  limits  of 
divine  help  afforded  to  the  historical  writers  of  the  New  Testament 
in  the  composition  of  their  books.  That  subject  is  irrelevant  to  the 
present  discussion.  What  we  have  to  establish  is  the  essential 
credibility  of  the  Evangelists  ;  in  other  words,  to  show  that  the 
narrative  which  they  give  of  the  life  of  Jesus  may  be  relied  on 
as  safely  as  we  rely  on  the  biographical  accounts  of  other  eminent 
personages  in  the  past  which  are  known  to  have  been  composed 
by  honest  and,  in  other  respects,  competent  narrators. 

i.  The  fact  of  the  selection  of  the  apostles,  and  the  view  delib¬ 
erately  taken  both  by  Jesus  and  by  themselves  of  their  function, 
are  a  strong  argument  for  their  credibility. 

In  inquiring  whether  the  Gospel  history  is  true  or  not,  it  is,  first 
of  all,  important  to  ascertain  what  view  Jesus  took  of  the  life  he 

3IQ 


TRUSTWORTHINESS  OF  THE  APOSTLES’  TESTIMONY  31 1 

was  leading  among  men,  and  also  to  observe  in  what  light  his 
career  was  regarded  by  his  followers.  Had  his  teaching,  and  the 
events  occurring  in  connection  with  his  life,  such  a  significance  in 
his  own  eyes,  that  he  meant  them  to  be  the  subject  of  testimony? 
Did  he  design  that  they  should  be  remembered,  and  be  faithfully 
narrated  to  those  beyond  the  circle  of  immediate  observers?  In 
other  words,  had  he,  and  his  followers  with  him,  an  “  historical 
feeling”  as  regards  the  momentous  occurrences,  as  they  proved 
to  be,  belonging  to  his  career?  This  question  is  conclusively  an¬ 
swered  by  the  fact  of  a  deliberate  selection  by  him  of  a  body  of 
persons  to  be  with  him,  who  were  deputed  to  relate  what  they  saw 
and  heard,  and  who  distinctly  understood  this  to  be  an  essential 
part  of  their  business.  They  were  called  “  the  Twelve  ”  ;  and  so 
current  was  this  appellation  at  an  early  day,  that  Paul  thus  desig¬ 
nates  them  even  in  referring  to  the  time  when  Judas  had  fallen 
out  of  their  number  (1  Cor.  xv.  5).  The  idea  which  they  had  of 
their  office  was  explicitly  pointed  out  by  Peter  when  he  stated  the 
qualifications  of  the  one  who  should  be  chosen  in  place  of  Judas 
(Acts  i.  21-25).  ^  may  be  remarked,  before  quoting  the  passage, 

that,  even  if  there  were  any  just  ground  for  suspecting  the  accuracy 
of  Luke  in  general,  it  could  have  no  application  in  this  place. 
For  instance,  there  is  no  room  for  the  bias  of  a  Pauline  disciple, 
since  the  transaction  is  one  in  which  it  is  Peter  who  appears  as 
the  leader ;  and  the  thing  proposed  is  the  completion  of  the  num¬ 
ber  of  “  the  Twelve.”  The  passage  reads  as  follows,  “  Where¬ 
fore  of  these  men  which  have  companied  with  us  ”  —  that  is, 
travelled  about  with  us  —  “  all  the  time  that  the  Lord  Jesus  went 
in  and  out  among  us,”  —  that  is,  was  in  constant  intercourse  with 
us,  —  “  beginning  from  the  baptism  of  John  unto  that  same  day 
that  he  was  taken  up  from  us,  must  one  be  ordained  to  be  a  wit¬ 
ness  with  us  of  his  resurrection.”  The  resurrection  is  particularly 
mentioned  as  the  fact  most  prominent  in  the  apostle’s  testimony. 
Here  is  a  deliberate  consciousness  on  the  part  of  Peter,  that  he 
and  his  fellow-apostles  were  clothed  with  the  responsibility  of  wit¬ 
nesses,  and  that,  to  be  of  their  number,  one  must  have  the  neces¬ 
sary  qualification  of  a  credible  witness,  —  a  personal  knowledge 
of  that  about  which  he  is  to  testify.  “We  are  witnesses,”  said 
Peter,  on  a  subsequent  occasion,  “  of  all  things  which  he  did  both 
in  the  land  of  the  Jews  and  in  Jerusalem  ”  (Acts  x.  39)  }  Their 

1  Cf.  Luke  xxiv.  47-49  ;  Acts  i.  8. 


312  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


commission  was  to  “  teach  all  nations,”  and  to  teach  them  the 
commandments  of  Jesus  (Matt,  xxviii.  20).  His  teaching  was  to 
be  brought  to  their  remembrance  (John  xiv.  26).  They  were 
forewarned  that  they  would  be  arraigned  before  magistrates,  to  give 
reasons  for  their  adherence  to  him  (Matt.  x.  18;  Luke  xxi.  12). 
The  promise  of  the  Spirit  is  given  in  a  form  to  exalt,  and  not  to 
diminish,  the  importance  of  the  historical  facts  of  the  life  and 
teaching  of  Jesus  (John  xiv.  15  seq.,  25,  26,  xv.  24-27,  xvi.  14; 
Luke  xxi.  14,  15).  The  apostle  John  speaks  of  himself  as  an 
eye-witness  (John  i.  14,  xix.  35,  cf.  xxi.  24).  Luke,  at  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  his  Gospel,  refers  to  his  having  consulted,  with  painstaking, 
those  who  had  heard  and  witnessed  the  things  to  be  recorded  by 
him  (Luke  i.  1-5).  His  object  in  writing  is  to  satisfy  Theophilus, 
one  in  whom  he  was  specially  interested,  that  his  Christian  belief 
rested  on  a  good  foundation  of  evidence.  It  is  plain  that  the 
apostles  and  Evangelists  are  distinctly  conscious  of  their  position. 
They  are  aware  that  they  have  to  fulfil  the  duty  of  witnesses. 
There  is  this  barrier  against  fancy  and  delusion.  It  is  a  great  point 
in  favor  of  their  credibility. 

2.  The  apostles  never  ceased  to  be  conscious  that  they  were 
disciples .  They  never  ceased  to  look  back  upon  the  words  and 
actions  of  Christ  with  the  profoundest  interest,  and  to  regard  them 
as  a  sacred  treasure  left  in  their  hands  to  be  communicated  to  an 
ever  widening  circle.  In  that  life  as  it  had  actually  passed  before 
their  eyes,  they  placed  the  foundation  of  all  their  hope  and  of  the 
hope  of  the  world.  There  is  not  the  least  sign  that  any  enthusiasm 
which  they  felt  in  their  work  ever  carried  them  away  from  this 
historical  anchorage.  The  precious  legacy  which  they  received 
it  devolved  on  them  to  convey  to  others  in  a  spirit  of  sobriety 
and  conscientiousness,  and  with  such  a  sense  of  its  value  and 
sacredness,  that  they  were  cut  off  from  the  temptation  to  add  to  it 
or  subtract  from  it.  They  were  as  far  as  possible  from  regarding 
what  they  had  received  as  a  mere  starting-point  for  them  to  con¬ 
found  with  it  speculations  of  their  own.  They  were  not  “  many 
masters,”  but  continued  to  hold  to  the  end  the  reverent,  depend¬ 
ent  position  of  learners. 

3.  The  apostles  relate,  without  the  least  attempt  at  apology  or 
concealment,  instances  of  ignorance  and  weakness  on  their  part, 
together  with  the  reproofs  on  this  account  which  they  received 
from  the  Master. 


TRUSTWORTHINESS  OF  THE  APOSTLES’  TESTIMONY  3 1 3 

This  proves  their  honesty ;  but,  more  than  that,  it  illustrates 
the  objective  character  of  their  testimony.  That  they  were  taken 
up  by  the  matter  itself,  so  that  all  personal  considerations  sank  out 
of  sight,  is  the  main  fact  which  we  are  now  endeavoring  to  illus¬ 
trate.  So  absorbing  is  their  interest  in  what  actually  occurred, 
that  they  do  not  heed  its  effect  on  their  own  reputation.  They  do 
not  think  of  themselves.  What  exhibits  them  in  an  unfavorable 
light  they  narrate  with  as  much  artless  simplicity  as  if  they  were  not 
personally  affected  by  it.  When  Jesus  taught  them  that  no  defile¬ 
ment  could  be  contracted  by  eating  one  rather  than  another  kind 
of  food,  at  which  the  Pharisees  were  offended,  Peter  asked  him  to 
explain  “  the  parable,”  or  obscure  saying.  They  tell  us  (Matt.  xv. 
16;  Mark  vii.  18)  that  Jesus  answered,  “Are  ye  also  yet  without 
understanding?”  He  expressed,  they  say,  astonishment  and 
regret  that  even  they  could  not  divine  his  meaning.  When  told  to 
beware  of  “  the  leaven  of  the  Pharisees  and  Sadducees,”  they 
obtusely  surmised  that  the  injunction  had  reference  to  a  possible 
deficiency  of  bread.  They  report  the  severe  reproach,  which  this 
called  forth,  of  a  littleness  of  faith,  a  failure  to  remember  the  mira¬ 
cle  of  the  loaves  (Matt.  xvi.  8  ;  Mark  viii.  17-21).1  They  tell  us 
how  they  confessed  their  own  weakness  of  faith  (Luke  xvii.  5). 
Repeatedly  they  state  that  they  did  not  comprehend  or  take  in 
the  predictions  of  his  suffering  death,  which  were  addressed  to 
them  by  Jesus.  They  represent  themselves  to  have  clung  so  tena¬ 
ciously  to  the  idea  of  a  political  Messiah,  that  after  the  death  of 
Jesus  they  expressed  their  disappointment  in  the  words,  “We 
trusted  that  it  should  have  been  he  which  should  have  redeemed 
Israel.”  And,  even  after  the  resurrection,  they  anxiously  required 
of  him,  “  Wilt  thou  at  this  time  restore  again  the  kingdom  to 
Israel  ?  ”  This  false  conception  of  the  Messiah’s  work  led  to 
expressions  on  their  part  which  deeply  wounded  Jesus.  These 
are  faithfully  reported  by  them.  They  inform  us  (Matt.  xvi.  23 ; 
cf.  Mark  viii.  33  ;  Luke  iv.  8)  that  Peter’s  protest  against  the 
suggestion  that  Jesus  was  to  suffer  death  elicited  from  him  such  a 
rebuke  as  nothing  but  the  feeling  that  he  was  tempted  to  sin  by  a 

1  The  strong  expression  of  grief  and  weariness,  “  O  faithless  and  perverse 
generation!  ”  etc.  (Matt.  xvii.  17),  is  omitted  above,  for  the  reason  that  the 
parallel  (Mark  ix.  19)  makes  it,  perhaps,  doubtful  whether  the  disciples  were 
included  among  those  addressed  in  the  apostrophe.  Matt.  xvii.  20  would 
suggest  that  they  were. 


314  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


friend  by  whom  he  ought  rather  to  be  supported  on  the  hard  path 
of  duty,  could  evoke,  “  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,”  —  adversary 
of  the  will  of  God,  tempter,  —  “for  thou  art  an  offence”  —  a 
stumbling-block  —  “  unto  me  ;  for  thou  savorest  not  ”  —  mindest 
not  —  “the  things  that  be  of  God,”  —  God’s  will,  God’s  cause, — 
“  but  those  that  be  of  men.”  This  heavy,  humiliating  rebuke  is 
recorded  by  all  the  Synoptists.  It  entered  into  the  story  which 
the  apostles,  Peter  included,  were  accustomed  to  relate.  Other 
instances  when  they  must  have  felt  humbled  by  the  Saviour’s  dis¬ 
pleasure  are  recorded  with  the  same  candor.  For  example,  when 
they  repelled  those  who  brought  little  children  to  him,  Jesus  “was 
much  displeased,”  and  bade  them  let  the  children  come  to  him 
(Mark  x.  13,  14  ;  cf.  Matt.  xix.  14  ;  Luke  xviii.  16). 

What  surer  mark  of  an  honest  narrator  can  exist  than  a  willing¬ 
ness  to  give  a  plain,  unvarnished  account  of  his  own  mortifying 
mistakes,  and  the  consequent  rebuffs,  whether  just  or  not,  which 
he  has  experienced?  When  Boswell  writes  that  Johnson  said  to 
him,  with  a  stern  look,  “  Sir,  I  have  known  David  Garrick  longer 
than  you  have  done,  and  I  know  no  right  you  have  to  talk  to  me 
on  the  subject,”  or  when  an  author  tells  us  that  his  hero  said  to 
him,  “  Sir,  endeavor  to  clear  your  mind  of  cant,”  no  one  can 
doubt  that  the  biographer  is  telling  a  true  story.  Men  are  not 
likely  to  invent  anecdotes  to  their  own  discredit.  When  we  find 
them  in  any  author,  a  strong  presumption  is  raised  in  favor  of  his 
general  truthfulness. 

4.  The  apostles  related,  and  the  Evangelists  record,  serious 
delinquencies  of  which  the  former  were  guilty,  —  unworthy  tempers 
of  feeling,  and  offences  of  a  grave  character. 

They  tell  us  of  the  ambition  and  rivalry  which  sprang  up  among 
them,  and  of  the  wrangles  that  ensued.  The  mother  of  John  and 
James  petitioned  that  her  sons  might  have  the  highest  places  of 
honor  in  the  new  kingdom,  of  the  nature  of  which  she  had  so  poor 
a  conception  (Matt.  xx.  20,  21).  The  two  apostles  joined  in  the 
request  (Mark  x.  37),  having  first  tried  to  draw  from  their  Master 
a  promise  that  they  should  have  whatever  they  might  ask  for. 
The  other  ten  were  angry  with  John  and  James  for  preferring  such  a 
request  (Mark  x.  41).  One  day,  on  their  way  to  Capernaum,  the 
disciples  fell  into  a  dispute  on  the  same  question,  —  who  shall 
have  the  precedence  (Mark  ix.  34;  cf.  Luke  ix.  46,  xxii.  24). 
Altercations  of  this  sort,  so  they  themselves  related,  broke  out  in 


1 


TRUSTWORTHINESS  OF  THE  APOSTLES’  TESTIMONY  315 


their  company  on  different  occasions.  Will  the  reader  ponder  the 
fact  that  all  four  of  the  Evangelists  give  a  circumstantial  account 
of  the  denials  of  Peter?  (Matt.  xxvi.  58  seq.;  Mark  xiv.  54  seq.; 
Luke  xxii.  54  seq. ;  John  xviii.  15  seq.)  Here  was  the  apostle  who 
had  a  kind  of  leadership  among  them.  It  was  he  whose  preaching 
was  most  effective  among  the  Jews  everywhere  (Gal.  ii.  8) .  Yet  this 
undisguised  account  of  his  cowardice,  treachery,  and  falsehood,  on 
a  most  critical  occasion,  is  presented  in  detail  in  the  evangelical 
narrative.  It  is  impossible  to  doubt  that  it  formed  a  part  of  the 
story  of  the  crucifixion,  which  the  apostles,  each  and  all  of  them, 
told  to  their  converts.  Could  a  more  striking  proof  of  simple 
candor  be  afforded  ?  Is  it  not  obvious  that  the  narrators  sank 
their  own  personality  —  merged  it  as  it  were  —  in  the  absorbing 
interest  with  which  they  looked  back  on  the  scenes  which  they 
had  beheld,  and  in  which  they  had  taken  part?  And  then  they 
relate  that  at  the  crucifixion  they  all  forsook  Jesus,  and  fled  (Matt, 
xxvi.  56  ;  Mark  xiv.  50).  They  make  no  attempt  to  conceal  the 
fact  that  they  left  his  burial  to  be  performed  by  one  who  was  com¬ 
paratively  a  stranger,  and  by  the  women  whose  devotion  overcame 
their  terror,  or  who  considered  that  their  sex  would  be  their  safe¬ 
guard.  Beyond  the  conscientious  spirit  which  this  portrayal  of 
their  own  infirmities  and  misconduct  compels  us  to  attribute  to 
the  apostles,  these  features  of  the  Gospel  narrative  show  that  they 
forgot  themselves,  so  intent  were  they  on  depicting  things  just  as 
they  had  occurred.  In  other  words,  they  impress  on  us  the  objec¬ 
tive  character  of  the  Gospel  history  as  it  is  given  on  the  pages  of 
the  Evangelists. 

5.  It  is  an  impressive  indication  of  the  objective  character  of  the 
apostolic  narrative,  that  the  manifestations  of  human  infirmity  in 
Jesus,  infirmity  which  does  not  involve  sin,  are  referred  to  in  the 
plainest  manner,  and  without  the  least  apology  or  concealment. 
These  passages  occur  side  by  side  with  the  accounts  of  miracles. 
Had  there  been  a  conscious  or  latent  disposition  to  glorify  their 
Master  at  the  expense  of  truth,  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  they 
would  have  spread  out  these  illustrations  of  human  weakness.  It 
is  only  necessary  to  remind  the  reader  of  the  record  of  the  agony 
of  Jesus  in  the  garden.  We  are  informed  that  he  was  overwhelmed 
with  mental  distress.  He  sought  the  close  companionship  of  the 
three  disciples  who  were  most  intimate  with  him.  He  prostrated 
himself  on  the  earth  in  supplication  to  God.  As  he  lay  on  the 


3 1 6  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

ground,  one  of  the  Evangelists  tells  us  —  if  we  adopt  the  accepted 
reading  —  that  the  sweat  fell  from  his  body,  either  actually  mingled 
with  blood,  or  in  drops  like  drops  of  blood  issuing  from  the  wounds 
of  a  fallen  soldier.  “  My  soul  ”  —  thus  he  had  spoken  to  the  three 
disciples  —  “  is  exceeding  sorrowful  unto  death.”  In  the  presence 
of  passages  like  these,  how  can  it  be  thought  that  the  apostles  were 
enthusiasts,  oblivious  or  careless  of  facts,  and  bent  on  presenting 
an  ideal  of  their  own  devising,  rather  than  the  life  of  Jesus  just  as 
they  had  seen  it?  1 

6.  The  truthfulness  of  the  apostles  is  proved  by  their  submis¬ 
sion  to  extreme  suffering  and  to  death  for  the  testimony  which 
they  gave. 

They  had  nothing  to  gain,  from  an  earthly  point  of  view,  by  re¬ 
lating  the  history  which  is  recorded  in  the  Gospels  :  on  the  con¬ 
trary,  they  had  everything  to  lose.  It  had  been  distinctly  foretold 
to  them  that  they  would  be  “  delivered  up  to  be  afflicted,”  deliv¬ 
ered  up  to  pain  and  distress,  be  objects  of  universal  hatred,  and  be 
killed  (Matt.  xxiv.  9).  They  were  forewarned  that  they  would  be 
seized,  imprisoned,  brought  before  rulers  as  criminals,  betrayed 
by  friends  and  nearest  relatives  (Luke  xxi.  12-16;  cf.  xi.  49). 
“  The  time  cometh,”  it  was  said,  “  that  whosoever  killeth  you  will 
think  that  he  doeth  God  service  ”  (John  xvi.  2  ;  cf.  xv.  20,  xvi.  33). 
These  predictions  were  verified  in  their  experience.  Whatever 
view  is  taken  of  the  authorship  of  the  Gospels,  none  can  doubt 
that  these  passages  are  a  picture  of  what  the  apostles  really  en¬ 
dured.  The  persecution  of  the  apostles  was  the  natural  result  of 
the  spirit  which  had  prompted  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus.  It  began 
as  soon  as  they  began  publicly  to  preach  “  Jesus  and  the  resurrec¬ 
tion.”  There  were  men,  like  Saul  of  Tarsus,  eager  to  hunt  down 
the  heretics.  The  murder  of  Stephen  occurred  in  the  year  33  or 
34,  about  two  years  after  the  death  of  Christ.  The  apostles  were 
objects  of  mingled  scorn  and  wrath.  Their  situation  is  described 
by  St.  Paul  as  follows  :  “  For  I  think  that  God  hath  set  forth  us 
the  apostles  last,  as  it  were  appointed  to  death  ”  —  or  doomed  to 
death,  —  “  for  we  are  made  a  spectacle  unto  the  world,  and  to 
angels,  and  to  men.  .  .  .  Even  unto  this  present  hour  we  both 
hunger  and  thirst,  and  are  naked  and  are  buffeted,  and  have  no 

1  It  does  not  fall  within  the  plan  of  John  to  repeat  this  narrative  of  the 
Synoptists.  But  John  reports  an  instance  of  the  deep  distress  of  Jesus,  “Now 
is  my  soul  troubled,”  etc.  (xii.  27).  John  alone  relates  that  he  “  wept  ”  (xi.  35). 


TRUSTWORTHINESS  OF  THE  APOSTLES’  TESTIMONY  317 


certain  dwelling-place.  .  .  .  Being  reviled,  we  bless ;  being  per¬ 
secuted,  we  suffer  it ;  being  defamed,  we  entreat ;  we  are  made 
as  the  filth  of  the  world,  and  are  the  offscouring  of  all  things  unto 
this  day”  (1  Cor.  iv.  9-14).  There  were  certain  peculiar  expos¬ 
ures  to  suffering  in  the  case  of  Paul,  yet  he  describes  here  the 
common  lot  of  the  apostles.  Defamation,  public  scorn,  physical 
hardship,  assaults  by  mobs,  and  punishments  by  the  civil  authority, 
imprisonment,  death,  —  this  was  what  they  saw  before  them,  and 
what  they  actually  suffered.  Ostracism,  with  all  the  indignities  and 
pains  that  bitter  fanaticism  can  inflict  along  with  it,  was  the  re¬ 
ward  which  they  had  to  expect  for  their  testimony  to  the  teach¬ 
ing,  the  miracles,  the  resurrection,  following  the  death,  of  Jesus. 
To  suspect  them  of  dishonesty  is  to  imagine  that  men  will  fling  away 
property,  friends,  home,  country,  and  life  itself,  for  the  sake  of 
telling  a  falsehood  that  is  to  bring  them  no  sort  of  advantage. 

Hardly  less  irrational  is  it  to  charge  them  with  self-delusion. j 
It  has  been  shown  in  a  preceding  chapter,  by  internal  evidence 
derived  from  the  Gospels,  and  by  other  proofs,  that  miracles  were 
wrought  by  Christ.  It  has  been  shown  that  the  theory  of  halluci¬ 
nation  will  not  avail  to  explain  the  unanimous,  immovable  belief  of 
the  apostles  in  his  resurrection.  These  men  attended  Jesus  through 
his  public  ministry,  from  the  beginning  to  the  close.  The  occur¬ 
rences  which  necessarily  presupposed  the  exertion  of  miraculous 
power  took  place  in  their  presence.  They  were  events  in  which 
they  had  a  deep  concern.  The  apostles,  to  be  sure,  were  not 
inquisitive  naturalists,  but  they  were  not  wanting  in  common  sense, 
and  they  were  conscientious  men.  They  were  the  men  whom 
Jesus  Christ  selected  to  be  his  companions.  Unless,  as  the  enemies 
of  Jesus  charged,  he  was  “a  deceiver,”  and  most  accomplished 
in  the  art,  how  could  they  mistake  the  character  of  these  works 
which,  as  they  alleged,  he  performed  before  their  eyes? 

But  as  the  miracles  are  the  part  of  the  Gospel  history  which  in 
these  days  chiefly  provokes  incredulity,  it  is  well,  once  more, 
briefly  to  advert  to  this  topic.  No  more  time  need  be  spent  on 
Hume’s  argument  to  show  that  a  miracle  is,  under  no  circumstances, 
capable  of  being  proved.  As  Mill  observes,  all  that  Hume  has 
made  out  is,  that  no  evidence  can  prove  a  miracle  to  an  atheist, 
or  to  a  deist  who  supposes  himself  able  to  prove  that  God  would 
not  interfere  to  produce  the  miraculous  event  in  question.1  We 
1  J.  S.  Mill,  System  of  Logicy  vol.  ii.  p.  no. 


3 1 8  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


assume  the  being  and  moral  attributes  of  God  ;  and  we  need  not  fur¬ 
ther  discuss  the  character,  in  other  respects,  of  Hume’s  reasoning.1 

As  the  miracles  rest  on  the  same  grounds  of  evidence  as  the 
other  matters  of  fact  to  which  the  apostles  testify,  special  reasons 
are  required  for  discrediting  their  testimony  as  regards  this  one 
class  of  events.  Is  it  said,  “  granting  that  they  are  possible,  they  are 
incredible  ”?  The  answer  is,  that,  being  a  necessary  element  and 
the  natural  adjuncts  of  revelation,  they  are  not  incredible,  unless 
the  fact  of  revelation,  and  of  Christian  revelation  in  particular,  is 
incredible.  Their  improbability  is  just  as  great  as,  and  no  greater 
than,  the  improbability  that  God  would  reveal  himself  toymen,  and 
send  his  Son  to  save  them.  Is  it  objected  that  there  has  been  a 
vast  number  of  pretended  miracles?  The  answer  of  Bishop  Butler 
appears  sufficient,  that  mankind  have  not  been  oftener  deluded  by 
these  pretences  than  by  others.  “  Prejudices  almost  without  num¬ 
ber  and  without  name,  romance,  affectation,  humor,  a  desire  to 
engage  attention  or  to  surprise,  the  party-spirit,  custom,  little  com¬ 
petitions,  unaccountable  likings  and  dislikings  —  these  influence 
men  strongly  in  common  matters.”  As  they  are  not  reflected  on  by 
those  in  whom  they  operate,  their  effect  is  like  that  of  enthusiasm. 
And  yet,  as  Butler  adds,  human  testimony  in  common  matters  is 
not,  on  this  account,  discredited.  Because  some  narratives  of 
miracles  spring  out  of  mere  enthusiasm,  it  is  an  unwarrantable  in¬ 
ference  that  all  are  to  be  accounted  for  in  this  way.2 

1  See  above,  ch.  iv.  On  Pagan  and  Ecclesiastical  Miracles,  see  Appendix, 
Note,  p.  421. 

2  What  is  said  in  the  Gospels  of  Jesus  prior  to  his  public  ministry  calls  for 
special  remark.  Of  this  portion  of  his  life,  the  apostles  were  not  directly 
cognizant.  With  regard  to  it  they  were  dependent  upon  others  for  informa¬ 
tion.  The  brief  and  fragmentary  character  of  the  introductory  narratives  in 
Matthew  and  Luke  is  adapted  to  inspire  confidence,  rather  than  distrust,  since 
it  indicates  authentic  tradition  as  the  probable  source  of  them.  The  most 
important  fact  contained  in  them  is  the  miraculous  conception.  For  the 
historical  truth  of  this  record,  there  is  proof  in  the  circumstance  that  Matthew’s 
and  Luke’s  narratives  are  from  separate  sources,  and  are  complementary  to 
each  other.  Moreover,  these  sources  are  Jewish.  Certainly  Luke’s  account  is 
from  a  Jewish  Christian  document.  There  was  nothing  in  Jewish  ideas  to  lead 
to  the  origination  of  a  myth  of  this  sort.  As  for  Judaizing  Christians,  they 
would  be  the  last  to  imagine  an  incident  so  contrary  to  their  dogmatic  ten¬ 
dencies.  As  to  Isa.  vii.  14,  there  is  no  proof  that  it  had  been  applied  by  the 
Jews  to  the  Messiah;  and  the  Hebrew  term  used  there  did  not  necessarily 
denote  an  unmarried  person,  Luke  repeatedly  refers  to  the  recollections  of 


TRUSTWORTHINESS  OF  THE  APOSTLES’  TESTIMONY  319 


We  are  not  called  upon  to  confute  the  opinion  that  the  first 
three  Gospels  —  the  historical  character  of  the  fourth  has  already 
been  vindicated  —  were  moulded  by  a  doctrinal  purpose  or  bias, 
since  that  opinion  finds  no  countenance  now  from  judicious  critics 
of  whatever  theological  creed.  The  first  Gospel  contains  numer¬ 
ous  passages  in  which  the  catholic  character  of  Christianity  is 
emphatically  set  forth.1  “  Our  Matthew,”  says  Mangold,  an  un¬ 
prejudiced  critic,  not  at  all  wedded  to  traditional  views,  “  is,  to  be 
sure,  written  by  a  Jewish  Christian  for  Jewish  Christians”;  “but 
he  has  given  us  no  writing  with  a  Jewish  Christian  doctrinal  bias.” 
“The  words  of  Jesus  quoted  in  Matthew,”  says  Reuss,  “which 
form  the  doctrinal  kernel  of  the  book,  are  not  selected  in  the 
slightest  degree  from  that  point  of  view,”  —  that  of  the  Palestinian 
Jewish  Christianity,  —  “  but  go  beyond  it  in  a  hundred  places,  and 
bespeak  so  much  the  more  the  faithfulness  of  the  tradition.” 2 
Mark  has  decidedly  outgrown  Judaism;  “but  no  dogmatic  ten- 

Mary  respecting  the  early  days  of  Jesus  (Luke  ii.  19,  51).  It  is  probable  that 
she  lived  at  Jerusalem  with  John.  “  She  kept  in  her  heart  ”  all  the  sayings 
[or  things]  connected  with  Jesus  when  he  was  twelve  years  old  (Luke  ii.  51). 
It  is  not  strange  if  a  knowledge  of  the  circumstances  concerning  his  birth  was 
slow  in  reaching  the  ears  of  his  followers,  or  that  early  genealogies  should 
assume  Joseph  to  have  been  his  father.  That  John  and  Paul  do  not  connect  the 
Saviour’s  divinity,  or  even  his  sinlessness,  with  his  miraculous  birth,  goes  to 
prove  that  doctrinal  belief  did  not  engender  the  story.  Luke’s  designation  of 
Jesus  as  holy,  in  connection  with  his  miraculous  conception  (Luke  i.  35;  cf. 
Matt.  i.  20),  is  not  equivalent  to  sinlessness.  If  the  origination  of  such  a 
myth  could  be  credited  to  Gentile  Christians,  which,  especially  at  so  early  a 
date,  is  an  unlikely  supposition,  we  could  not  account  for  its  adoption  in  the 
circle  of  Palestinian  Jewish  Christians.  How  the  idea  of  a  miraculous  ele¬ 
ment  in  the  birth  of  “  the  second  Adam  ”  comports  with  the  function  that  was 
to  belong  to  him  as  a  new  creative  potence  in  humanity,  together  with  the 
force  of  the  historical  proofs,  is  cogently  presented  by  Neander,  Leben  Jesu, 
pp.  14  seq.  See  also  the  instructive  discussion  of  Weiss,  Leben  Jeszi,  i.  212 
seq.  That  difficulties  should  exist  in  connection  with  details  in  the  narra¬ 
tives  of  the  opening  period  of  Christ’s  life,  which  are  collected  in  Matthew 
and  Luke,  is  to  be  expected.  It  is  natural  that  Strauss  should  make  the  most 
of  them.  The  subject  of  the  miraculous  birth  is  fairly  and  instructively 
handled  by  Sanday,  in  Hastings’  Dictionary  of  the  Bible ,  i.  642  seq.  For 
valuable  remarks  of  Professor  Ramsay  on  this  topic,  see  his  Was  Christ  born 
in  Bethlehem  ? 

1  Matt.  viii.  11,  ix.  16  seq.,  xii.  8,  xiii.  31,  xx.  1  seq.,  xxi.  28,  33,  xxii.  40, 
xxiii.  33,  xxiv.  14,  xxviii.  19;  cf.  Essays  on  the  Supernatural  Origin  of  Chris¬ 
tianity,  pp.  213-215;  Reuss,  Gesch.  d.  heilig.  Schriftt.  d.  N.  T.,  p.  195. 

2  Gesch.,  etc.,  p.  194. 


320  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

dency  can  on  this  account  be  saddled  on  his  presentation  of  the 
Gospel  history,  as  long  as  it  is  not  shown  that  Christ  himself  did 
not  rise  above  Judaism,  and  that  the  Jewish  Christian  Matthew 
looks  on  Christianity  as  a  development  within  the  limits  of  Juda¬ 
ism.”  1  In  Luke,  “not  only  does  the  history  of  Jesus  acquire  in 
general  no  other  significance  than  in  Matthew,  nowhere  is  there 
disclosed  a  design  to  set  aside  or  to  overcome  an  imperfect  under¬ 
standing  of  it :  on  the  contrary,  there  occur  numerous  words  and 
acts,  drawn  from  the  general  tradition,  which,  when  literally  taken, 
rather  wear  a  Jewish  Christian  coloring.  But  here  it  will  be 
nearest  to  the  truth  to  affirm  that  not  a  party  feeling,  but  the  most 
independent  historical  research,  —  or,  if  we  prefer  so  to  call  it,  a 
thirst  for  the  fullest  possible  information,  —  has  governed  in  the 
collection  of  the  matter.”2  The  whole  charge  of  being  Tendenz- 
Schriften,  which  Baur  and  his  school  brought  against  the  Gospels, 
is  founded  on  untenable  theories  respecting  their  authorship  and 
order  of  composition. 

If  the  “tendency-theory”  no  longer  calls  for  detailed  refutation, 
the  same  thing  is  true  of  the  attack  of  Strauss  on  the  credibility  of 
the  Gospels,  which  is  founded  on  their  alleged  inconsistencies. 
This  attack  is  now  acknowledged  by  judicious  scholars  to  be 
merely  the  work  of  an  expert  advocate,  bent  on  finding  contradic¬ 
tions  in  testimony  which  he  is  anxious  to  break  down.3  The 
Gospel  narratives  are  wholly  inartificial.  No  compositions  could 
be  more  open  to  assault  from  critics  who  ignore  this  character  that 
belongs  to  them,  and  labor  to  magnify  the  importance  of  varia¬ 
tions  which  serve  to  prove  that  there  was  no  collusion  among 
the  several  writers,  and  no  attempt  on  the  part  of  anybody  to  frame 
a  story  that  should  be  proof  against  hostile  comment.4 

Over  and  above  particular  evidences  of  trustworthiness,  such  as 
have  just  been  stated,  there  is  one  token  even  more  impressive 
than  single  items  of  this  nature,  a  token  which  the  unlearned 
reader  of  the  Gospels  must  feel  to  be  convincing.  It  is  the  por¬ 
traiture  of  the  character  of  Jesus  which  the  Evangelists  present 

1  Mangold-Bleek,  Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  p.  342. 

2  Reuss,  p.  212. 

3  A  full  reply  to  Strauss  on  this  topic  is  made  in  the  present  writer’s  The 
Supernatural  Origin  of  Christianity ,  ch.  vi. 

4  For  remarks  on  discrepancies  in  the  Gospels,  see  Appendix,  Note  000. 


TRUSTWORTHINESS  OF  THE  APOSTLES’  TESTIMONY  32 1 


alike  before  the  eyes  of  the  simple  and  the  cultured.  We  see  in  a 
concrete  form  an  ideal  which  these  writers  could  never  have  them¬ 
selves  originated.  Composed  of  numerous  disconnected  elements, 
it  stands  forth  a  consistent,  living  picture  which  has  called  forth 
the  homage  and  moved  the  hearts  of  succeeding  generations. 
This  image  of  Jesus  presented  in  artless  narrations  demonstrates 
their  verity.  Of  the  Galilean  fishermen  and  their  humble  associ¬ 
ates  it  has  been  said  by  a  teacher  trained  in  letters  and  philosophy 
that,  “  if  it  be  an  unreal  creation  of  their  own,  we  will  worship 
them.” 


Y 


CHAPTER  XIII 


THE  RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  AND  TO 

BIBLICAL  CRITICISM 

The  critical  discussions  which  are  rife  in  our  times  respecting 
the  Bible,  the  authorship  of  its  various  books,  and  the  historical 
value  and  normal  authority  of  their  contents  make  it  important 
to  consider  the  bearing  of  these  inquiries  and  debates  on  the 
Christian  faith.  What  is  the  relation  of  the  collection  of  writings 
which  we  call  the  Bible  to  the  religion  of  Christ?  How  far  is  a 
particular  doctrine  on  the  subject  of  the  Scriptures  requisite  for  a 
theoretical  or  a  practical  reception  of  the  Gospel  in  its  just  import 
and  proper  efficacy?  Do  the  verdicts  of  critical  science  imperil,  or 
are  they  likely  to  imperil,  the  foundations  on  which  Christianity, 
considered  as  an  experience  of  the  soul,  or  as  a  body  of  beliefs 
concerning  God  and  man,  the  life  that  now  is,  and  the  world 
hereafter,  reposes? 

So  much  is  clear  at  the  outset,  that  what  we  know  of  the  his¬ 
torical  and  doctrinal  parts  of  Christianity  is  ascertained  almost 
exclusively  from  the  Bible.  The  same  is  true  of  our  knowledge  of 
the  origin  and  growth  of  that  entire  religious  system  which  is  con¬ 
summated  in  the  work  and  teaching  of  Christ  and  of  the  apostles. 
It  is  not  less  plain  that  the  nutriment  of  Christian  piety  is  derived 
chiefly  from  the  pages  of  Sacred  Scripture.  The  instrumentalities 
of  human  teaching,  the  activities  of  the  Church  in  building  up 
Christian  character,  and  the  rest  of  the  manifold  agencies  through 
which  the  power  of  religion  is  kept  alive  in  the  individual  and  in 
society,  draw  their  vitality  from  the  Bible.  The  habit  of  resorting 
to  the  Bible  for  spiritual  quickening  and  direction  is  the  indispen¬ 
sable  condition  of  religious  life  among  Christians.  The  practical 
proof  of  the  inspiration  of  Holy  Scripture  —  the  preeminence  of 
this  volume  above  all  other  books  known  to  men  —  is  found  in 
this  life-giving  power  that  abides  in  it,  and  remains  undiminished, 
from  age  to  age,  in  all  the  mutations  of  literature,  and  amid  the 

322 


RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  323 


diverse  types  and  advancing  stages  of  culture  and  civilization.  The 
general  proposition,  that  the  Bible  is  at  once  the  fountain  of  spir¬ 
itual  light  and  life,  the  prime  source  of  religious  knowledge,  and  the 
rule  of  faith  and  guide  of  conduct  among  Christians,  admits  of  no 
contradiction. 

But  this  general  theorem  does  not  cut  off  those  special  prob¬ 
lems  and  distinctions  which,  with  a  view  to  exact  definition  and 
qualification,  constitute  biblical  criticism,  as  that  branch  of  study 
is  at  present  understood.  It  could  not  be  that  the  traditional  views 
which  were  handed  down  from  the  Church  of  the  fourth  century, 
through  the  middle  ages,  uncritical  to  some  extent  as  those  views 
were  in  their  inception,  should  escape  the  scrutiny  of  a  more  search¬ 
ing  and  scientific  era.  The  Renaissance  awakened  a  fresh  intel¬ 
lectual  life  and  an  inquisitive  spirit.  The  liberty  of  thought  which 
the  Reformation  brought  in  was  attended  at  the  outset  with  a  more 
discriminating  and  a  more  free  handling  of  questions  pertaining 
to  the  origin  and  character  of  the  books  of  Scripture,  as  the  exam¬ 
ple  of  Luther  notably  illustrates.  The  separation  of  the  Old  Tes¬ 
tament  apocrypha  from  the  Scriptural  canon  was  one  consequence 
of  this  more  bold  and  enlightened  spirit  of  inquiry.  The  exigen¬ 
cies  of  controversy  with  the  Roman  Catholics  begot  among  Prot¬ 
estant  teachers  of  dogmatic  theology,  in  the  next  age,  a  more 
scrupulously  conservative  method  of  shaping  the  doctrine  respect¬ 
ing  the  inspiration  of  biblical  books  than  a  number  of  great  leaders 
in  the  Protestant  movement  had  adopted.  The  authority  of  the 
Bible,  in  opposition  to  the  Tridentine  principle  of  church  authority, 
was  so  construed  as  to  lay  fetters  upon  the  critical  spirit  among  the 
Protestant  theologians  of  the  seventeenth  century.  The  maxim 
of  Chillingworth,  himself  a  theological  writer  of  a  liberal  cast, 
“The  Bible  is  the  religion  of  Protestants,”  was  the  parent  gener¬ 
ally  of  the  dogma  that  the  Scriptures  are  in  all  respects  impeccable. 
More  and  more  the  rise  and  spread  of  the  scientific  spirit — the 
spirit  which  pursues  truth  alone  as  its  goal,  casting  aside  every 
bias  as  tending  to  blind  the  eye,  and  sifting  evidence  with  an  un¬ 
sparing  rigor — could  not  fail  to  affect  this  department  of  knowledge. 
More  and  more  the  spirit  of  candid  and  exhaustive  and  fearless 
investigation,  which  is  the  legitimate  child  of  the  Protestant  move¬ 
ment,  insisted  upon  testing  the  prevalent  impressions  concerning 
the  Bible  and  its  various  parts,  by  the  strict  rules  that  govern  im¬ 
partial  investigation  in  every  other  province.  Literary  criticism, 


324  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


which  concerns  itself  with  the  correctness  of  the  received  text  and 
with  the  authorship  and  date  of  the  several  books,  with  their  real 
or  alleged  discrepancies ;  natural  and  physical  science,  exploring 
the  origin  of  the  earth  and  of  its  inhabitants,  and  of  the  stellar 
spheres  above  ;  historical  and  archaeological  study,  exhuming  relics 
of  the  past,  and  deciphering  monuments  of  bygone  ages,  —  these 
branches  of  knowledge  bring,  each  of  them,  conclusions  of  its  own 
to  be  placed  in  juxtaposition  and  comparison  with  the  Hebrew  and 
Christian  Scriptures.  Biblical  criticism  was  something  inevitable. 
It  sprang  up  within  the  pale  of  the  Church.  Its  most  valuable 
contributions  have  been  made  by  Christian  scholars.  It  is  true 
that  disbelievers  in  the  divine  mission  of  Jesus,  and  even  in  the 
supernatural  altogether,  have  sometimes  devoted  themselves  to 
these  inquiries.  It  is  a  blunder  and  an  injustice,  however,  on  the 
part  of  Christians,  and  a  false  boast  on  the  part  of  their  adversa¬ 
ries,  when  on  either  side  it  is  affirmed  that  biblical  criticism,  and 
the  verified  results  of  it,  are  principally  due  to  efforts  of  scholars 
without  sympathy  with  the  Church  and  with  the  cause  of  religion. 

Enough  has  been  said  respecting  the  exalted  function  of  Scrip¬ 
ture  to  preclude  misapprehension  when  we  proceed  to  remark 
that  the  Bible  is  one  thing  and  Christianity  is  another.  The  reli¬ 
gion  of  Christ,  in  the  right  signification  of  these  terms,  is  not  to  be 
confounded  with  the  scriptures,  even  of  the  New  Testament.  The 
point  of  view  from  which  the  Bible,  as  related  to  Christianity,  is 
looked  on  as  the  Koran  appears  to  devout  Mohammedans,  is  a 
mistaken  one.  The  entire  conception  according  to  which  the 
energies  of  the  Divine  Being,  as  exerted  in  the  Christian  revela¬ 
tion,  are  thought  to  have  been  concentrated  on  the  production  of 
a  book,  is  a  misconception,  and  one  that  is  prolific  of  error. 

i.  The  revelation  of  God  which  culminates  in  the  Gospel,  so 
far  from  being  a  naked  communication  let  down  from  the  skies,  is 
in  and  through  a  process  of  redemption.  Redemption  is  an  effect 
wrought  in  the  souls  of  men  and  in  human  society.  Christianity 
is  a  new  spiritual  creation  in  humanity.  The  product  is  “  new 
creatures  in  Christ  Jesus,’’ — a  moral  transformation  of  mankind. 
Jesus  said  to  his  disciples,  “Ye  are  the  light  of  the  world  ...  ye 
are  the  salt  of  the  earth.”  From  them  was  to  go  forth  an  illumi¬ 
nating,  renovating  power.  Seeing  their  good  works,  attracted  by 
their  spirit,  other  men  were  to  be  brought  to  the  Father.  The 
brotherhood  of  Christian  believers  was  the  dwelling-place  in  which 


RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  325 

the  living  God  made  his  abode  :  they  were  his  “  house,”  as  the 
temple  was  his  house  under  the  former  dispensation.1  They  are 
expressly  declared  to  be  the  “  temple  ”  of  God,  in  which  his 
Spirit  abides.2  The  “  pillar  and  ground  of  truth” — that  which 
upholds  the  truth  in  the  world,  and  is  like  a  foundation  underneath 
it  —  is  the  Church.  It  is  not  said  to  be  books  which  had  been 
written,  or  which  were  to  be  written,  but  the  community  of  faith¬ 
ful  souls.3  A  society  had  been  brought  into  being,  —  a  people  of 
God,  with  an  open  eye  to  discern  spiritual  things.  A  vine-stock 
had  been  planted,  the  branches  of  which,  if  they  did  not  dissever 
themselves,  would  bear  fruit. 

2.  Revelation  is  historical :  the  means  of  revelation  are  primarily 
the  dealings  of  God  with  men.  The  revelation  of  God  to  the 
Hebrew  people  was  made  through  the  providential  guidance  and 
government  which  determined  the  course  of  their  history.  When 
the  sacred  writers  —  as  the  authors  of  the  Psalms,  or  inspired 
orators  like  the  protomartyr  Stephen  —  speak  of  divine  revelation, 
they  recount  the  ways  in  which  God  in  the  past  has  led  his  people. 
The  appeal  is  to  the  disclosure  of  God  in  the  providential  history  of 
his  people.  Especially  do  they  recall  the  manifestation  of  God 
in  the  deliverance  from  bondage  in  Egypt  by  the  hand  of  Moses, 
in  the  leading  of  Israel  through  the  wilderness,  in  the  conquest  of 
the  land  which  they  inhabited,  in  the  various  instances  of  national 
prosperity  and  national  disaster  which  followed.  Events  had  been 
so  ordered,  signal  rewards  had  been  seen  so  to  alternate  with  sig¬ 
nal  chastisements,  that  God  was  more  and  more  brought  home  to 
their  minds  and  hearts  in  his  true  character.  The  nations,' 
generally  valued  their  divinities  for  the  protection  and  help  which 
they  afforded.  This  was  the  ordinary  heathen  view.  Under 
the  divine  training  of  the  Israelites,  they  rose  to  a  higher 
and  altogether  different  conception.  So  established  did  their 
faith  become  that  national  downfall,  and  what  seemed  utter  ruin,  „ 
did  not  signify  that  Jehovah  was  powerless.  These  calamities 
were  the  chastisement  inflicted  on  them  by  God  himself.  It  was 
not  that  God  was  overcome  by  stronger  powers ;  it  was  he  him¬ 
self  who  had  brought  on  them  defeat  and  exile,  and  the  desola¬ 
tion  of  their  altars  and  homes.  Hence  they  were  moved  to 
cling  to  him  all  the  closer.  They  were  saved  from  complete 

1  Heb.  iii.  2,  5,  x.  21 ;  1  Pet.  iv.  17,  cf.  Ephes.  ii.  22. 

2  1  Cor.  iii.  16;  2  Cor.  vi.  16.  3  1  Tim.  iii.  15. 


326  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

despair.  They  could  believe  that  God  might  not  have  utterly 
forsaken  them.  They  ascended  to  a  higher  point  of  view.  They 
learned  to  contemplate  God  both  as  holy,  as  actuated  by  ethical 
motives  in  his  government,  as  just  to  punish,  and  merciful  to  spare 
and  to  forgive  the  contrite,  and  as  the  Ruler,  not  of  themselves 
alone,  but  of  the  whole  earth.  The  thread  of  his  all-governing 
purpose  and  will  ran,  not  through  the  history  of  Israel  alone,  but 
through  the  fate  and  fortunes  of  all  nations.  By  experiences  of 
actual  life  under  the  providential  sway  of  God,  their  knowledge  of 
him  expanded,  their  communion  with  him  became  more  intimate 
and  more  intelligent.  A  father  discloses  himself  to  his  children  by 
his  management  of  them  from  day  to  day  and  from  year  to  year. 
His  smile  rewards  them.  He  frowns  upon  them  when  they  go 
astray.  They  are  trained  to  confide  in  him.  They  know  him 
more  and  more  as  they  live  under  his  care,  and  witness  the  mani¬ 
festation  of  his  qualities  in  the  successive  periods  of  their  lives. 
The  didactic  element  is  not  wanting.  The  father  teaches,  as  well 
as  guides  and  governs.  Explanation,  admonition,  —  it  may  be, 
outpourings  of  grief  and  affection,  —  are  intermingled  with  the 
instruction  contained  in  act  and  deed.  His  dealings  with  them 
are  not  left  to  be  misinterpreted.  Their  purport  is  made  clear,  if 
need  be,  by  verbal  elucidation.  They  are  intermingled  with  coun¬ 
sel  and  command.  Somewhat  after  this  manner,  in  the  course  of 
the  history  of  Israel,  “  the  servant”  of  the  Lord,  not  only  were 
heroes  raised  up  providentially  to  lead  armies,  and  administer 
civil  affairs,  but  holy  men  were  called  upon  the  stage  to  make 
known  the  meaning  of  the  doings  of  God,  to  point  the  presumptu¬ 
ous  and  the  desponding  to  the  future,  to  give  voice  to  the  spirit 
of  prayer  and  praise  which  the  character  of  God,  and  his  rela¬ 
tion  to  them,  should  appropriately  inspire.  Prophets,  with  vision 
clarified  by  light  shining  into  their  souls  from  above,  expounded 
the  providential  dealings  of  God,  read  aloud  his  purposes  discovered 
in  them,  commanded,  warned,  and  consoled  in  his  name. 

If  we  turn  to  the  revelation  of  God  in  the  Gospel,  we  observe 
the  same  method.  It  is  an  historical  manifestation.  A  child  is 
born  at  Bethlehem,  and  brought  up  at  Nazareth,  consecrated 
by  baptism  in  the  Jordan,  collects  about  him  a  company  of  chosen 
followers,  lives  in  intercourse  with  men,  performs  miracles  of  heal¬ 
ing  and  deliverance,  dies,  and  reappears  from  the  tomb.  He 
teaches ;  and  his  teaching  is  indispensable  to  the  effect  to  be  pro- 


RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  327 


duced,  and  is  most  precious.  But  his  own  person  and  character, 
his  deeds  of  power  and  mercy,  his  voluntary  submission  to  death, 
his  resurrection,  ascension,  and  continued  agency  through  the 
Spirit,  —  it  is  in  these  facts  and  transactions  that  the  Gospel  cen¬ 
tres.  They  are  the  material,  the  vehicle,  of  revelation.  The 
didactic  element  is  to  open  the  eye  to  their  intrinsic  significance. 
It  is  to  insure  against  misunderstanding,  and  to  impress  on  the 
hearts  and  minds  of  men  the  inherent  meaning  of  these  deeds  of 
God  in  human  history. 

3.  The  persons  and  transactions  through  which  revelation  is 
made,  one  must  remember,  are  anterior  to  the  Scriptures  that 
relate  to  them.  The  apostle  Paul  traces  back  the  line  of  God’s 
people  to  the  faith  of  their  nomadic  ancestor.  This  faith  pre¬ 
ceded,  of  course,  every  record  of  it,  and  everything  that  was  writ¬ 
ten  about  it.  There  could  be  no  story  of  divine  judgments  and 
deliverances,  and  of  their  effect  on  the  religious  consciousness  of 
the  people,  prior  to  the  occurrences  in  question  and  to  the  obser¬ 
vation  of  their  result.  As  fast  as  sacred  literature  arose,  its  influ¬ 
ence  would  be  more  or  less  felt ;  but  this  literature  presupposed 
and  rested  on  a  progressive  religious  life  and  on  the  historical 
forces  which  fostered  as  well  as  originated  it.  The  great  fact  of 
the  old  dispensation,  its  palpable  outcome,  was  a  people  imbued 
with  the  spirit  of  a  pure  theism,  separated  from  the  heathen 
world  by  the  possession  of  an  exalted  faith  in  God,  and  of  a  great 
hope  of  redemption  inseparably  conjoined  with  it  —  a  people 
bearing  witness  to  God  in  the  midst  of  the  pagan  world.  In 
like  manner  the  Church  of  the  new  covenant  preceded  the  New 
Testament  writings.  Jesus  himself  wrote  nothing.  As  far  as  we 
know,  at  the  date  of  his  ascension,  nothing  respecting  him  had 
been  put  in  writing.  His  words,  his  miracles,  the  things  that  he 
suffered,  his  resurrection,  were  unrecorded.  Not  less  than  a 
score  of  years  may  have  passed  before  those  first  essays  at  record¬ 
ing  what  the  disciples  knew  respecting  his  life,  which  Luke 
notices  in  his  prologue,  were  composed.  The  oldest  writings  in 
the  New  Testament  collection  are  certain  Epistles  of  Paul,  which 
were  called  out  by  his  necessary  absence  from  churches,  or  by 
special  emergencies.  Yet  the  Christian  faith  was  in  being;  the 
Church  was  in  being ;  the  Gospel  was  preached ;  the  testimony 
of  the  apostles  was  spread  abroad  ;  numerous  converts  were  made. 
Christianity  was  not  made  by  the  Christian  Scriptures. 


328  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


4.  On  the  contrary,  the  Scriptures  are  the  product  of  the 
Church.  They  do  not  create  the  community ;  the  community 
creates  them.  The  histories  of  the  Old  Testament  record  the 
progress  and  fortunes  of  the  people.  The  historians  are  of  the 
people  to  which  their  writings  relate.  The  prophets,  with  what¬ 
ever  divine  gifts  of  insight  and  foresight  they  are  endued,  spring, 
in  like  manner,  out  of  the  people.  The  fire  that  spreads  along 
the  earth  here  and  there  shoots  upward,  and  sends  its  light  afar. 
The  psalm  is  the  inspired  expression  of  the  devotion  of  the  great 
congregation  gathered  within  the  temple.  Even  the  Proverbs 
have  an  origin  and  a  stamp  among  the  chosen  people  which 
make  them  analogous  to  the  proverb  elsewhere,  “  The  wisdom  of 
many,  and  the  wit  of  one.” 

As  the  Gospels  were  for  the  Church,  so  they  were  from  the 
Church.  Apostles  and  their  disciples  composed  them  to  meet 
a  want  in  the  community  in  which  the  authors  were  members  as 
well  as  guides.  The  Epistles  were  the  product  of  the  Church, 
as  well  as  means  of  its  edification.  Their  authors  were  moved 
by  the  same  Spirit,  with  whatever  difference  of  mode  and  of 
measure,  as  the  membership  among  whom  they  ranked  them¬ 
selves  as  brethren.  There  was  not  even  an  intention  to  compose 
a  body  of  sacred  literature.  The  purpose  of  Providence  went 
beyond  the  writers’  intent.  The  very  word  “  Bible,”  denoting 
a  single  book,  results  from  a  blunder.  A  Greek  word,  in  the 
plural,  signifying  originally  “  books,”  it  was  mistaken  in  the  middle 
ages  for  a  Latin  noun  of  the  first  declension  singular.  It  was  not 
until  the  oral  teaching  of  the  apostles  was  beginning  to  be  for¬ 
gotten,  and  their  immediate  disciples  were  passing  away,  that  the 
churches  bethought  themselves  to  gather  together  in  a  volume 
the  writings  of  the  apostles,  and  writings  having  an  apostolic  char¬ 
acter.  The  canon  was  of  slow  and  gradual  formation. 

The  fundamental  reality  is  not  the  Bible,  it  is  the  kingdom  of 
God.  This  is  not  a  notion.  Rather  is  it  a  real  historical  fact, 
and  the  grandest  of  all  facts.  No  other  kingdom  or  common¬ 
wealth  ever  had  a  more  substantial  being.  It  is  older  than  any 
other ;  it  has  proved  itself  stronger  and  more  enduring  than  any 
other ;  if  there  is  any  good  ground  for  the  Christian’s  faith,  it  will 
embrace  or  overspread  them  all.  What  is  this  kingdom  ?  It  is 
the  society  of  believers  in  God  —  the  society  of  his  loyal  subjects 
and  children.  In  its  immature  stage,  under  the  old  dispensation, 


RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  329 


it  existed  in  the  form  of  an  organized  political  community.  Among 
the  nations  there  lived  one  people  which  had  true  thoughts  respect¬ 
ing  God,  into  whose  hearts  he  put  true  thoughts  respecting  himself. 
They  became  conscious  —  it  was  he  who  inspired  them  with  the 
consciousness  —  of  standing  in  an  immediate,  peculiar  relation  to 
him.  That  they  were  a  “  chosen  people  ”  was  a  conviction  in- 
eradicably  planted  within  them.  Has  not  this  conviction  of  theirs 
been  verified  in  the  subsequent  history  of  mankind  ?  They  were 
made  to  feel  that  they  were  not  thus  distinguished  for  their  own 
sake,  or  on  account  of  any  merit  of  their  own,  but  were  chosen  to 
be  witnesses  for  God  to  the  rest  of  mankind.  There  was  a  divine 
purpose  of  redemption,  in  which  the  entire  race  was  to  have  a 
share.  In  the  divine  intent,  to  recover  mankind  from  evil,  and  to 
make  the  whole  earth  the  abode  of  righteousness  and  peace,  was 
the  ultimate  goal.  The  civil  polity  and  the  laws  of  the  chosen 
people  were  to  reflect  the  will  of  God  as  made  known  from  time 
to  time  through  holy  and  inspired  men.  The  whole  course  of 
their  lives  was  to  be  regulated  by  prescriptions  issuing  from  the 
same  divine  source.  After  the  monarchical  form  of  government 
was  established,  revelation  still  remained  the  source  of  law.  Side 
by  side  with  the  kings  there  stood  the  prophets  to  declare  the 
divine  will,  to  rebuke  the  iniquitous  ruler,  and,  if  need  be,  to 
exhort  the  people  to  disobedience.  In  the  complex  progress  of 
the  world  toward  the  ideal  of  human  perfection,  other  peoples, 
on  the  plane  of  nature,  had  their  respective  parts  to  fulfil.  The 
one  supreme  concern  of  this  Hebrew  nation  was,  and  was  felt  to 
be,  religion.  Their  function  among  the  nations  of  the  earth  was 
consciously  wrapped  up  in  this  one  interest.  As  they  well  knew, 
other  religions  besides  their  own  were  national.  All  ancient  reli¬ 
gions  were  national. 

But  other  religions  were  on  false  foundations,  and  were  doomed 
to  pass  away.  When  the  political  independence  of  the  Israelites 
was  lost,  their  civil  polity  shattered,  the  conquered  people  dragged 
off  into  idolatrous  lands,  this  consciousness  of  being  possessed  of 
the  true  religion,  and  of  a  grand  and  triumphant  future  awaiting 
them,  not  only  survived  but  grew  more  confident.  It  not  only 
outlived  political  ruin ;  under  overwhelming  calamities  it  burned 
with  a  more  intense  fervor.  More  strange  than  all,  there  was  a 
foresight  of  a  great  advance  to  be  made  in  the  intrinsic  character 
of  this  divinely  given  religion,  as  well  as  in  the  extent  of  the  do- 


330  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


minion  to  be  gained  by  it.  The  basis  of  the  religion  was  the  cove¬ 
nant  of  God  with  the  people.  Under  this  term  the  ethical  relation 
of  Israel  with  God,  whom  Israel  worshipped,  was  conceived  and 
expressed.  The  laws  and  institutions,  with  the  blessings  and  hopes 
for  the  future  which  they  expressed  and  betokened,  were  inter¬ 
preted  as  the  conditional  promise  of  the  merciful  but  righteous 
Jehovah.1  But  the  days  were  to  come  when  there  was  to  be  “a 
new  covenant  with  the  house  of  Israel,  and  with  the  house  of 
Judah.”  Religion  was  one  day  to  become  more  spiritual;  obedi¬ 
ence  would  then  no  longer  be  legal  or  constrained,  but  spontane¬ 
ous  ;  the  knowledge  of  God  and  his  ways  would  be  confined  to 
no  class,  but  would  be  diffused  among  all ;  forgiveness  would  be 
full  and  free.  Such  is  the  remarkable  prediction  of  the  prophet 
Jeremiah.  Centuries  flowed  on,  the  great  hope  was  a  hope  de¬ 
ferred  ;  but  the  epoch,  thus  foreseen,  at  last  arrived.  The  Person 
through  whom  was  to  be  achieved  this  vast  revolution  and  expan¬ 
sion  of  the  kingdom,  dimly  discerned  from  afar  in  certain  grand 
outlines,  at  length  appeared.  Jesus,  the  Christ,  became  the 
founder  of  a  spiritual  and  universal  society.  Whoever  will  look 
into  the  Gospels  will  see  that  it  was  in  this  character  of  the  head 
of  a  kingdom  that  he  appeared.  It  was  of  the  kingdom  of  God 
that  John,  the  forerunner,  spoke,  as  near  at  hand.  It  was  for  pro¬ 
fessing  to  be  a  king,  however  the  nature  of  that  claim  was  mis¬ 
represented  by  his  accusers,  that  Christ  was  put  to  death.  The 
prophecy  began  to  be  realized  when  he  commenced  to  teach  and 
to  attract  to  himself  disciples.  The  kingdom  was  there.  This  he 
taught  when,  in  answer  to  the  question  when  the  kingdom  was  to 
begin  to  be,  he  said,  “The  kingdom  of  God  cometh  not  with 
observation”;  “lo  !  .  .  .  the  kingdom  of  God  is  within  you,”  or 
in  the  midst  of  you.  The  kingdom  was  constituted  by  Jesus  and 
the  group  of  disciples  who  acknowledged  him  as  Lord  and  Master, 
and  who,  like  him,  were  devoted  to  the  doing  of  the  Father’s  will. 
This  last  was  the  criterion  of  membership  in  the  kingdom,  and  of 
a  title  to  its  blessings.  Those  who  were  one  with  Jesus  in  this 
filial  allegiance  were  hailed  by  him  as  brother  and  sister  and 
mother.  Yet  the  consummation  of  the  kingdom  lay  in  the  future. 
Hence  the  kingdom,  although  a  present  reality,  was  a  kingdom  in 
the  bud,  and  therefore  a  kingdom  to  come  —  to  come  in  a  double 

1  The  history  and  ideas  linked  to  the  word  “  covenant  ”  are  concisely  stated 
by  A.  B.  Davidson,  in  Hastings’  Dictionary  of  the  Bible ,  i.  509  seq. 


RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  33 1 


sense,  in  its  moral  progress  among  mankind  and  in  mysterious  final 
scenes  of  judgment  and  victory.  So  that  the  prayer  of  all  disci¬ 
ples  was  still  to  be,  “Thy  kingdom  come”  —  a  supplication  that 
points  both  to  the  continuous  progress  and  transforming  influence 
of  the  Gospel  in  the  world,  and  to  the  goal  of  that  progress,  the 
final  epoch.  Precisely  how  “  the  kingdom  of  Christ  ”  or  “  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  ”  should  be  defined  is  a  point  on  which  all  are 
not  agreed.  It  was  declared  by  Jesus  not  to  be  a  “  kingdom  of 
this  world.”  Its  origin  was  not  earthly,  but  from  above.  It  was 
not,  like  human  sovereignties,  to  be  maintained  and  spread  by 
force.  The  end  of  the  Founder’s  mission  was  to  bear  witness  to 
the  truth.  The  kingdom  was  to  be  made  up  of  those  who  heard 
his  voice,  who  believed  and  obeyed  the  witness  which  he  gave. 
In  the  ancient  era  of  the  Church  there  was  the  Byzantine  idea, 
which  tended  to  regard  the  Christian  state,  with  the  Roman  em¬ 
peror  at  its  head,  as  the  realization  of  the  kingdom.  In  the  West 
it  was  the  Church  in  its  visible  organization  under  the  Papacy  that 
.•was  identified  with  the  kingdom  of  Christ.  A  broader  view  would 
bring  within  the  circumference  of  the  kingdom  all  the  baptized, 
in  whatever  Christian  fold.  A  still  broader  view  is  that  which 
includes  within  its  pale  all  souls  who,  accepting  Christ  as  their 
Lord  and  Saviour,  live  to  do  the  Father’s  will. 

No  view  of  the  divine  kingdom  is  adequate  which  fails  to  see 
that  the  end  of  its  establishment  is  the  transformation  of  human 
society.  The  rescue  of  individuals  from  sin  and  punishment  is 
far  from  being  the  whole  good  to  be  achieved  through  the  instru¬ 
mentality  of  revealed  religion.  Its  ethical  relations  are  never  to 
be  ignored  or  undervalued.  It  is  here  on  earth  that  the  will  of 
God  is  to  be  done.  It  is  here  that  the  desert  is  “  to  rejoice,  and 
blossom  as  the  rose.”  The  aim  of  the  divine  kingdom  was  and  is 
to  renovate  political  and  social  life.  “Judaism,”  a  recent  writer 
has  well  said,  “  was  not  a  religion  merely,  but  a  polity,  its  aim 
being  the  establishment  of  righteousness  in  the  relations  of  men 
within  the  commonwealth ;  the  political  and  moral  laws  and  the 
national  organization  form  its  central  point,  its  kings  and  judges 
being  in  the  fullest  sense  ministers  of  God.”  Nothing  less  was 
designed  by  the  later,  the  Christian  dispensation,  following  upon 
the  earlier,  than  “  the  establishment  and  maintenance  of  true 
relations  throughout  the  whole  body  of  a  united  and  organized 
humanity,  under  the  influence  of  the  Christian  spirit  of  righteous- 


332  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


ness  and  love.”  As  a  means  to  this  end  the  Church  exists  — 
an  organized  community,  consisting  of  a  portion  of  human  society 
in  which  the  renewing  power  of  the  Gospel  has  been  experienced. 

One  might  as  well  doubt  whether  the  sun  is  in  the  sky  as  to 
question  the  reality  of  that  new  creation  which  gives  its  distinc¬ 
tive  character  to  “  the  Christian  era.”  Out  of  Judaism  there  has 
come  into  being  a  spiritual  and  universal  society,  however  it  may 
be  more  precisely  defined,  and  whatever  disputes  may  exist  as  to 
its  boundaries.  It  may  be  added  here  that  all  organized  bodies 
which  hold  the  Christian  faith,  including  the  Church  of  Rome  as 
well  as  Protestants,  unite  in  pronouncing  that  the  complete  deposit 
of  revealed  truth  was  with  Christ  and  the  apostles.  The  Church  of 
Rome  makes  tradition  an  authorized  channel  for  the  transmission 
of  this  truth.  But  all  agree  that  Christianity  is  the  absolute  reli¬ 
gion.  There  is  a  progress  in  the  understanding  of  it  from  age  to 
age.  But  the  religion  itself  is  not  defective,  and  therefore  is  not 
perfectible.  Christianity  is  not  to  be  put  in  the  same  category 
with  the  ethnic  religions,  which  contain  an  admixture  of  error,  and 
are  capable  of  being  indefinitely  improved.  The  religion  of  the 
Gospel  is  absolute.  The  allegiance  of  the  follower  of  Christ  is 
unqualified.  “Ye  call  me  Master  and  Lord  :  and  ye  say  well ;  for 
so  am  I.” 

Keeping  in  view  this  historic  kingdom  which  stands  forth  as  an 
objective  reality,  beginning  in  the  distant  past  and  carried  for¬ 
ward  to  its  perfected  form  by  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  we  have  to  in¬ 
quire  what  is  the  relation  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  to  it.  The  answer 
is  that  they  are  the  documents  that  make  us  acquainted  with  the 
kingdom  in  its  consecutive  stages  up  to  its  completed  form.  In 
the  Scriptures  we  are  made  acquainted  with  the  facts  and  the 
meaning  of  the  facts.  And  as  in  the  case  of  all  documentary 
materials  viewed  in  contrast  with  literary  products  of  later  elabo¬ 
ration,  we  are  brought  face  to  face  with  the  historic  transactions 
and  with  the  persons  who  took  part  in  them.  This  is  the  peculiar 
character  of  the  Scriptures,  and  is  at  once  the  secret  of  their 
transcendent  value  and  the  occasion  of  countless  obscurities  and 
difficulties.  By  no  other  means  could  we  become  possessed  of 
knowledge  so  immediate  and  so  vivid.  Yet  they  give  occasion 
for  the  same  sort  of  inquiries  that  always  devolve,  in  historical 
investigation,  on  those  who  delve  in  the  sources. 

Let  us  take  an  illustration  from  secular  history.  We  will  sup- 


RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  333 


pose  that  the  later  narratives,  such  as  those  of  Bancroft  and  Pal¬ 
frey,  by  which  a  New  Englander  learns  the  origin  and  growth  of 
the  communities  to  which  he  belongs,  and  their  historic  relations 
to  other  parts  of  America,  had  not  been  written  —  the  narratives, 
we  mean,  which  are  based  on  documentary  materials,  including 
under  this  head  prior  accounts  whose  authors  stood  nearer  to  the 
circumstances  which  they  relate  than  the  historians  of  to-day. 
We  are  shut  up,  we  will  imagine,  to  this  mass  of  documentary 
materials.  There  is  Bradford’s  pathetic  story  of  the  Pilgrims,  of 
their  flight  from  their  English  home  to  Holland,  their  voyage 
across  the  Atlantic,  their  settlement  and  their  experiences  at  Plym¬ 
outh.  We  have  other  writings  also,  —  the  “  Compact  of  Govern¬ 
ment  ”  drawn  up  in  the  cabin  of  the  Mayflower ;  the  diary  and 
the  letters  of  John  Winthrop,  the  Massachusetts  governor;  the 
earlier  and  later  codes  of  colonial  law ;  the  “  Bay  Psalm  Book  ”  ; 
Cotton  Mather’s  “  Magnalia  ”  ;  later  still,  the  history  of  Hutchinson, 
and  along  with  other  productions  we  have  discourses  of  the  most 
influential  preachers  in  the  successive  generations.  As  we  ap¬ 
proach  the  epoch  of  the  Revolution  we  have  the  letters  and 
speeches  of  the  patriotic  leaders ;  the  records  of  the  first  con¬ 
gresses,  local  and  general ;  the  Declaration  of  Independence ; 
contemporary  accounts  of  the  war  that  followed ;  the  Constitution 
of  the  United  States,  and  expositions  of  it  by  Madison  and  others 
who  took  part  in  framing  it ;  official  papers  of  the  first  President 
and  his  cabinet,  etc.  Imagine  a  comprehensive  collection  of 
these  documents.  It  would  consist  of  prose  and  poetry,  of  ora¬ 
tions,  disquisitions,  letters,  and  so  forth.  Obviously  there  would 
be  inconveniences,  especially  to  an  untrained,  unlearned  student. 
There  would  be  things  hard  to  understand,  obscure  allusions, 
apparent  and  real  discrepancies  of  more  or  less  consequence. 
Questions  of  chronology  would  arise,  and  might  be  difficult  to 
solve  —  such  as  pertain  to  the  date  of  laws  and  usages,  and  of 
written  memorials  of  the  past.  A  consecutive  history  prepared  by 
a  modern  student  of  sound  critical  judgment  would  plainly  have 
its  advantages.  But  one  superlative  advantage  it  would  fail  to 
have.  The  reader  would  not,  in  anything  like  an  equal  degree, 
be  brought  into  the  atmosphere  of  the  former  days.  He  would 
not,  in  anything  like  an  equal  degree,  come  into  living  contact 
with  the  events  and  into  direct  personal  intercourse  with  the 
participants  in  them.  His  impressions,  if  in  some  particulars 


334  THE  grounds  of  theistic  and  Christian  belief 


more  exact  and  more  systematic,  would  lack  the  color,  would  want 
the  vividness,  which  are  to  be  caught  only  from  the  documentary 
sources.  The  difference  is  like  that  between  a  treatise  on  geog¬ 
raphy,  or  even  the  descriptions  of  a  traveller,  and  an  actual  jour¬ 
ney  through  a  country  which  we  seek  to  know.  Let  one  read 
either  of  the  numerous  lives  of  Jesus  which  have  been  written  by 
learned  scholars  in  recent  times,  even  when  imaginative  power 
reenforces  the  erudition  of  the  author,  and  then  turn  to  the  pages 
of  the  Evangelists.  He  will  feel  at  once  the  difference  between 
second-hand  and  first-hand  accounts ;  between  those  who  see 
through  their  own  eyes  and  those  who  have  to  use  the  eyes  of 
others.  The  modern  scholars  furnish  us  with  collateral  informa¬ 
tion  of  value,  illustrative  of  the  Gospels ;  they  collate  the  several 
narrators ;  they  apply  the  canons  of  historical  criticism  with 
more  or  less  skill ;  but  where  is  that  living,  speaking  portrait  of 
Jesus,  of  his  walk  and  his  talk,  which  the  original  historians,  the 
apostles  and  their  companions,  give  us?  It  is  the  difference 
between  the  herbarium  and  the  leaves  and  flowers  in  field  or 
forest.  In  the  herbarium  the  classification  is  better,  but  we  miss 
the  bright  hues  and  the  perfume  of  the  blossoms.  To  the  bota¬ 
nist  the  herbarium  is  important,  and  botany  is  a  useful  science 
in  its  place.  But  the  rose-bush,  or  a  grape-vine  with  the 
clusters  of  fruit  hanging  upon  it,  has  a  charm  of  its  own  which 
the  botanist  not  more  than  the  unlettered  man  would  be  willing  to 
spare. 

The  beginnings  of  old  kingdoms  and  empires  are  commonly 
obscure.  They  start  on  their  career  in  the  twilight.  It  is  not 
until  the  day  has  fairly  dawned,  until  some  progress  has  been  made 
on  the  path  of  civilization,  that  written  records  arise  to  be  trans¬ 
mitted  to  later  times.  Even  then,  contemporary  writings  are 
likely  to  be  scanty  and  fragmentary.  Traditions  exist  and  are 
handed  down,  but  they  are  subject  to  the  influences  that  affect 
the  oral  transmission  of  narrative  matter  from  generation  to  gen¬ 
eration.  Thus  when  the  past  comes  to  be  studied  in  an  enlight¬ 
ened  age,  there  is  no  escape  from  the  necessity  of  historical 
criticism.  The  historical  student,  like  other  laborers,  has  to  earn 
his  bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  The  facts  of  a  remote  time 
are  to  be  reached  only  by  exploring  in  places  where  the  light  is 
dim.  Great  rivers  may  traverse  empires,  spreading  fertility  along 
their  banks ;  but  we  have  to  hunt  for  their  sources.  If  the  cir- 


RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  335 


cumstances  of  the  rise  of  the  kingdom  of  God  are  parallel,  there 
is  no  good  reason  for  surprise. 

The  foregoing  remarks  may  throw  some  light  on  the  question  | 
how  Christianity  stands  affected  by  biblical  criticism.  The  Chris-  | 
tian  faith  is  expressed  in  a  summary  form  in  the  ancient  docu¬ 
ment  known  as  the  Apostles’  Creed.  In  its  doctrinal  aspect,  the  j 
Christian  faith  was  formulated  early  in  the  fourth  century,  in  the 
creed  called  the  Nicene,  which,  as  to  its  main  affirmations,  has 
been  accepted  by  most  organized  bodies  of  Christians.  Neither 
of  these  confessions  makes  any  declaration  relative  to  the  origin  of 
scriptural  books  or  the  kind  and  degree  of  authority  that  pertains 
to  them.  They  are  silent  on  the  subject.  It  is  Christianity  in  its 
cardinal  facts  and  principles  which  they  undertake  to  set  forth. 
This  does  not  imply  an  undervaluing  of  the  importance  of  the 
question  of  the  inspiration  and  authority  of  the  Bible.  It  illus¬ 
trates,  however,  the  point  that  the  Christian  system  of  truth  is 
separable  in  thought  from  varying  phases  of  opinion  respecting 
the  origin  and  characteristics  of  the  Scriptures. 

The  perception  of  divine  revelation  as  having  for  its  end  the 
building  up  of  a  community  or  kingdom,  and  as  made  at  the 
basis  through  a  history  transacted  on  the  earth,  lifts  us  to  a 
plane  where  critical  problems,  within  a  certain  reasonable  limit, 
may  be  regarded  with  comparative  indifference.  Within  that  limit 
literary  questions  having  to  do  with  the  authorship  of  books,  as,  for 
example,  whether  it  be  simple  or  composite,  and  whether  tradi¬ 
tional  impressions  as  to  authorship  are  well  founded ;  questions 
having  to  do,  also,  with  the  correctness  of  the  text  which  has  been 
transmitted  to  us ;  questions  as  to  the  order  of  succession  in  the 
stages  of  development  through  which  the  community  of  God  has 
passed ;  questions  as  to  the  faultless  accuracy  of  details  in  histori¬ 
cal  narratives,  are  no  longer  felt  to  be  of  vital  moment.  They 
are  not  points  on  which  the  Christian  religion  stands  or  falls.  The 
timidity  which  springs  out  of  the  idea  of  Christianity  as  exclusively 
a  book  religion,  every  line  in  whose  sacred  books  is  clothed  with 
the  preternatural  sanctity  ascribed  by  Mohammedan  devotees  to 
their  sacred  writings,  is  dissipated.  The  Christian  believer,  as  long 
as  fundamental  verities  and  the  foundations  on  which  they  stand 
are  unassailed,  is  no  more  disturbed  by  the  unveiling  of  the  human 
factor  in  the  origination  of  the  Scriptures,  and  by  finding  that 
it  played  a  more  extensive  part  than  was  once  supposed.  The 


336  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

treasure  is  not  lost  because  it  is  distinctly  perceived  to  be  held  “  in 
earthen  vessels.” 

In  the  illustrations  given  above  from  American  history  the  litera¬ 
ture  referred  to  was  in  the  main  contemporary  with  the  writings. 
This  advantage  we  have  approximately  in  the  use  of  the  New 
Testament.  Critical  questions  connected  with  the  Old  Testament 
books  and  their  contents  present  peculiar  difficulties.  Yet,  on  this 
topic,  a  single  observation  may  be  made,  which  will  serve  still 
further  to  elucidate  the  meaning  of  what  has  been  said  above. 
The  observation  is,  that  the  religion  of  Christ  stands  in  an  organic 
relation  to  the  Old  Testament  religion,  and  that  this  connection, 
in  its  most  essential  features,  is  an  historical  fact  that  admits  of  no 
rational  doubt,  whatever  views  may  be  taken  on  other  topics  per¬ 
taining  to  Old  Testament  literature.  The  people  that  gave  birth 
to  Jesus  Christ  were  a  people  marked  by  distinctive  peculiarities, 
which  are  well  known,  abundantly  attested,  and  universally  allowed 
to  have  existed.  They  were  worshippers  of  one  God,  a  living 
God,  a  Spirit,  the  Creator  and  sole  Sovereign  of  the  universe. 
Along  with  this  peculiar,  exalted  theism  there  had  come  to  exist 
the  Messianic  expectation.  There  was  to  be  a  great  expansion, 
purification,  triumph,  of  the  kingdom  of  God  —  the  community  of 
his  worshippers.  There  was  to  be  a  deliverance.  There  was  to 
be  a  world-wide  extension  of  the  true  religion.  These  are  acknowl¬ 
edged  facts.  How  did  that  state  of  things  come  to  be  ?  How 
did  that  peculiar  community  grow  into  being,  which  furnished  the 
human  and  temporal  conditions  of  the  birth  and  career  of  Jesus? 
How  shall  we  explain  that  he  was  born  of  Israel,  and  not  of  the 
Greeks  or  Egyptians?  There  is  no  dispute  on  the  question 
whether  there  is  a  close,  organic  connection  between  the  religion 
of  Palestine  and  the  religion  of  Christ.  It  is  a  fact  too  patent  to 
be  doubted  for  a  moment. 

Back  of  that  peculiar  religion,  and  that  whole  state  of  things 
which  existed  in  the  Palestinian  community  and  its  foreign  off¬ 
shoots  at  the  time  when  Jesus  was  born,  there  lies  a  history.  So 
vast  and  spreading  a  tree  is  not  without  deep  roots.  It  is  perfectly 
obvious  that  the  Old  Testament  books  are  the  principal,  if  not  the 
exclusive,  documents  from  which  we  can  acquaint  ourselves  with 
the  rise  and  progress  of  that  unique  religion  which  was  the  pre¬ 
cursor  and  the  parent  of  Christianity.  From  them  we  must  learn 
who  were  the  human  leaders,  civil  and  religious,  through  whose 


RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  337 


mediation  that  religion  advanced  from  its  beginnings,  and  attained 
to  the  stage  of  development  which  it  is  found  to  have  reached  at 
the  approach  of  the  Christian  era.  Now,  inquiries  may  be  started 
as  to  the  order  of  succession  in  the  laws  and  in  the  institutions  of 
worship,  which  were  not  always  the  same,  and  even  as  to  what 
precisely  was  done  and  contributed  by  this  or  that  inspired  leader 
or  teacher.  These  questions  do  not  necessarily  touch  Christianity 
in  any  vital  part.  They  do  not  necessarily  affect  in  a  vital  way 
the  view  that  is  taken  of  the  history  of  the  people  of  Israel.  In¬ 
vestigations  of  Roman  history,  even  when  they  require  the  modi¬ 
fication  of  previous  ideas,  do  not  alter  fundamentally  our  conception 
of  the  growth,  the  polity,  and  the  power  of  the  Roman  Empire. 
They  only  make  still  clearer  the  ruling  ideas  that  animated  the 
Roman  people.  The  history  of  England  is  not  written  now  as  it 
was  written  a  hundred  years  ago ;  but  the  existence  of  the  Eng¬ 
lish  monarchy,  and  the  turning-points  in  its  origin  and  growth,  are 
left  untouched  by  the  scrutiny  of  historical  criticism. 

Students  of  the  Old  Testament  generally  enlarge  the  earliest 
group  of  historical  books  by  adding  to  it  the  Book  of  Joshua,  thus 
making  a  “  Hexateuch  ”  instead  of  a  Pentateuch.  They  generally 
consider  the  series  of  books  to  be  composed  of  a  number  of 
different  documents,  varying  from  one  another  in  their  original 
dates,  with  serious  variations  not  a  few  in  their  historic  details  and 
interpretations.  Not  only  the  books  in  their  present  form,  but 
the  constituent  documents  are  considered  to  have  been  far  later 
in  their  origin  than  tradition  had  taught.  One  consequence  of 
the  change  of  opinion  is  a  common  conception  of  the  order  of 
events,  the  reverse  of  the  ordinary  view.  The  period  of  the 
prophets  is  considered  to  have  preceded  that  of  the  law  and  of 
the  Hebrew  ritual  as  it  is  set  forth  in  the  Hexateuch.  It  is  a  di¬ 
versity  as  to  historic  theory,  or,  a  geologist  might  say,  in  stratifica¬ 
tion.  The  most  striking  effect  of  this  new  chronology  is  the 
contraction  of  the  bounds  of  contemporary  history  and  of  the 
historical  sources,  and  the  consequent  loss,  as  far  as  the  primitive 
era  is  concerned,  of  the  contemporary  evidence  which  is  a  princi¬ 
pal  guaranty  of  trustworthy  narratives.  Literary  criticism  in  this 
field  joins  hands  with  the  researches  in  general  history  and  in 
archaeology  which  pertain  to  prehistoric  ages.  The  biblical  era 
most  affected  in  this  way  is  the  pre-patriarchal.  In  this  particular 
the  patriarchal  period  comes  next,  showing  a  perceptible  advance. 


338  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


The  marks  of  historic  credibility  increase  at  the  threshold  of  the 
Mosaic  era.  But  one  characteristic  of  the  Old  Testament  narra¬ 
tives  stands  out  in  distinct  relief.  It  is  the  fact  of  divine  revela¬ 
tion.  It  is  evident  from  the  very  first  verse  of  Genesis  that  the 
legends  of  the  Babylonians  and  other  tribes  kindred  to  the  He¬ 
brews  have  been  sifted  of  their  polytheistic  elements.  One  of  the 
most  eminent  and  liberal-minded  of  modern  German  theologians 
was  guilty  of  no  exaggeration  in  the  remark  that  the  first  three 
chapters  of  Genesis  contain  more  moral  and  religious  truth  than 
all  other  books  written  independently  of  the  influence  of  the 
Bible.  Among  the  Hebrews  the  conception  of  a  tribal  deity  by 
degrees  grows  into  that  of  a  supreme  sovereign,  righteous  in  his 
character,  with  an  expanded,  even  a  world- wide  control.  This 
purifying  and  elevating  effect,  this  monotheistic,  ethical  faith,  so  in 
contrast  with  Semitic  history  elsewhere,  is  inexplicable  save  on  the 
supposition  that  it  is  due  to  the  self-revelation  of  God.  The  same 
fact  in  the  Hebrew  religion  is  presupposed  in  the  rise  and  progress 
of  the  Messianic  expectation.  The  progress  of  the  Hebrew  reli¬ 
gion  from  its  earliest  stages,  as  the  Old  Testament  brings  it  to 
light,  must  have  been  conditioned  on  the  appearance  of  leaders 
inspired  to  guide  the  people  onward  and  about  whom  the  people 
could  rally.  Whatever  may  be  true  of  individuals  described  as 
such,  their  historic  reality  and  influence  at  the  great  turning-points 
have  a  strong  inherent  probability. 

Even  the  critics  who  carry  the  theory  of  non-Mosaic  authorship 
to  the  point  of  denying  that  the  decalogue,  at  least  in  the  form  in 
which  it  stands,  proceeds  from  its  reputed  human  author,  do  not, 
as  a  rule,  call  in  question  the  fact  that  Moses  was  the  founder  of 
the  legislation  and  religious  institutions  of  the  nation  of  Israel. 
T^enss,  who  was  one  of  the  most  original  and  learned  of  the  critics 
of  the  modern  school,  emphatically  declares 1  that  the  agency  of 
Moses  was  of  so  influential  and  far-reaching  a  character  that  in 
the  whole  course  of  the  history  of  Israel,  prior  to  Jesus,  there  ap¬ 
peared  no  personage  to  be  compared  with  him.  He  towers 
above  all  that  followed  in  the  long  line  of  heroes  and  prophets. 
If  the  codes,  as  it  would  seem,  were  kept  open,  still  on  any  view 
that  does  not  pass  the  bounds  of  reason,  “the  law  came  by  Moses.” 
The  recollection  of  the  leadership  of  Moses,  of  his  grand  and 
dominating  agency  in  the  deliverance  of  the  people  from  bondage, 
1  Geschichte  d.  heiligen  Schriften  d.  A.  T.,  vol.  i. 


RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  339 


and  in  laying  the  foundations  of  their  theocratic  polity,  was  indel¬ 
ibly  stamped  upon  the  Hebrew  mind.  To  discredit  a  tradition  so 
deeply  rooted  in  the  generations  that  followed  would  be  a  folly  of 
incredulity.  It  might  almost  be  said  that  the  voice  of  the  great 
Lawgiver  reverberates  down  the  subsequent  ages  of  Hebrew  his¬ 
tory,  until  the  appearance  of  him  whose  teaching  fulfilled,  and  in 
that  sense  superseded,  the  utterances  of  them  “of  old  time.” 
Ewald  has  dwelt  impressively  on  the  living  memory,  the  memory 
of  the  heart,  transmitted  from  father  to  son,  of  the  great  redemp¬ 
tion  from  Egyptian  slavery  —  the  standing  type  of  the  mighty 
spiritual  deliverance  to  be  achieved  by  a  greater  than  Moses.  If 
Moses  was  in  reality  so  effective  an  agent  in  forming  the  Israelitish 
nation  and  in  shaping  its  peculiar  system ;  if,  in  truth,  so  powerful 
an  impulse  emanated  from  him  as  critics  so  competent  as  Reuss 
allow,  the  question  is  naturally  suggested,  whether  there  would  be 
wholly  wanting  (since  the  art  of  writing  was  then  well  known) 
contemporary  records,  and  something  from  the  pen  of  Moses  him¬ 
self.  If  there  is  nothing  improbable  in  the  tradition  that  he  was 
learned  in  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians,  then  it  would  be  no 
marvel  if,  to  some  extent,  he  committed  his  laws  and  injunctions 
to  writing.  But  these  are  critical  inquiries  upon  which  we  are  not 
called  on  here  to  dilate. 

In  defining  the  attitude  which  the  Christian  believer  may  rea¬ 
sonably  take  in  relation  to  biblical  criticism,  there  are  two  or  three 
considerations  which  deserve  to  be  specially  insisted  on.  It  is 
now  assumed  that  the  evidences  of  the  supernatural  mission  of 
Jesus,  and  of  his  miracles,  have  produced  the  conviction  which 
they  warrant.  It  is  obvious,  in  the  first  place,  that  so  far  as  criti¬ 
cal  theories  spring  from  the  rejection  of  the  supernatural,  either 
as  in  itself  impossible,  or  as  having  no  function  in  connection  with 
the  religion  of  Christ,  those  theories  have  no  weight.  They  are 
vitiated  by  the  bias  which  lies  at  their  root.  They  proceed  upon 
an  unscientific,  because  disproved,  hypothesis  that  the  religion  of 
the  Bible  is  a  purely  human  product.  When  it  is  denied  that  a 
particular  author  wrote  a  certain  book,  or  that  it  was  written  at  a 
certain  date,  or  that  incidents  related  in  it  are  true,  or  that  predic¬ 
tions  in  it  were  made,  and  this  denial  depends  simply  on  the  a 
priori  disbelief  in  the  supernatural,  it  is  of  no  value,  and,  to  a 
Christian  believer,  will  carry  no  weight.  A  theory  respecting  the 
matters  just  enumerated  may  be  broached  by  one  who  disbelieves 


340  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


in  the  resurrection  of  Jesus,  and  it  may  be  sound,  although  it  con¬ 
travenes  traditional  opinion ;  but  as  far  as  that  theory  involves,  as 
a  presupposition  and  a  conditio  sine  qua  non ,  the  denial  or  doubt 
of  the  resurrection,  it  is  worthless.  This  criterion  at  once  disposes 
of  a  mass  of  critical  speculation  about  the  literature  of  the  Bible 
and  its  contents,  which  has  no  more  solid  foundation  than  the 
arbitrary  assumption  that  a  miracle  is  impossible,  or  that  Chris¬ 
tianity  is  not  from  God  in  any  other  sense  than  is  true  of  Buddh¬ 
ism.  Belief  in  Christianity  as  coming  supernaturally  from  God 
does  not  justify  one  in  dispensing  with  critical  investigation,  which, 
it  need  not  be  said,  in  order  to  be  of  any  value,  must  be  prose¬ 
cuted  thoroughly  and  in  a  candid  and  truth-loving  spirit.  Neither 
does  it  justify  one  in  disregarding  the  canons  of  historical  judg¬ 
ment,  for  the  reason  that  particular  features  of  a  narrative  are 
miraculous,  and  that  miracles  are  possible,  and  have  actually  taken 
place  at  points  along  the  line  of  divine  revelation.  An  historical 
religion  must  verify  itself,  not  only  in  general  and  as  a  whole,  but 
also  in  its  various  parts,  to  the  historical  inquirer.  That  is  to  say, 
from  the  general  truth,  when  once  established,  of  the  supernatural 
origin  of  the  religion  of  the  Bible,  the  strict  verity  of  all  the  facts 
recorded  in  it,  whether  natural  or  supernatural,  cannot  at  once  be 
logically  concluded.  The  tests  of  historical  criticism  must  be 
applied  as  well  to  details  as  to  the  system  as  a  whole. 

Does  it  comport  with  the  essentials  of  Christian  belief  to  hold 
that  deception  may,  in  any  instances,  have  been  used  in  connection 
with  the  authorship  of  books  of  Sacred  Scripture?  For  example, 
can  it  be  admitted  that  what  is  known  in  ecclesiastical  history  as 
“  pious  fraud  ”  had  a  part  in  the  framing  of  scriptural  books?  For 
instance,  is  it  consistent  to  allow  that  an  author  may  have  palmed 
off  a  book,  historical  or  didactic,  as  the  production  of  an  honored 
man  of  an  earlier  time?  In  answer  to  these  questions  it  is  to  be 
said  at  the  outset  that  the  supposition  of  an  intended  deception 
ought  not  to  be  allowed  without  satisfactory  proof.  It  cannot  be 
safely  asserted  that  the  author  or  authors  of  the  apocryphal  book 
of  Enoch,  which  is  referred  to  in  Jude  (ver.  14),  and  no  part  of 
which  goes  back  farther  than  the  age  of  the  Maccabees,  meant 
that  readers  should  believe  Enoch,  “  the  seventh  from  Adam,”  to 
have  been  the  writer.  It  may  be  in  this,  as  no  doubt  it  was  in 
other  cases,  a  mode  of  giving  dignity  and  weight  to  lessons  which 
the  real  author  thought  would  be  less  efficacious  if  put  forth  in  his 


RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  341 


own  name,  but  which  he  cast  into  this  form  with  no  intent  to  have 
them  believed  to  be  productions  of  the  elder  time.  At  the  same 
time  we  should  be  cautious  about  assuming  that  a  refinement 
of  ethical  feeling,  equal  to  that  which  Christianity  develops  and 
demands,  existed  at  all  periods  under  the  ancient  dispensation. 
If  there  was,  in  general,  an  inferior  stage  in  the  development  of 
conscience,  it  is  not  incredible  that,  even  in  holy  men,  there  was 
a  less  delicate  sense  of  truth  and  a  less  sensitive  observance  of  the 
obligation  of  strict  veracity.  How  far  it  may  have  pleased  the 
Divine  Being  to  allow  this  lack  of  moral  discernment  to  affect 
the  literary  activity,  as  we  know  that  it  affected  in  other  provinces 
the  personal  conduct  and  judgment,  of  holy  and  inspired  men,  we 
cannot  a  priori  —  at  least,  not  with  absolute  confidence  —  deter¬ 
mine.  Everything  must  yield  at  last  to  the  fair  verdicts  of  a 
searching  but  reverent  scholarship,  which  explores  the  field  with 
the  free  and  assured  step  of  a  Christian  believer. 

This  brings  us  to  the  further  remark  that  the  authority  of  Christ 
and  of  the  apostles,  once  established  by  convincing  proofs,  is  de¬ 
cisive.  Nothing  that  clashes  with  that  authority,  when  its  charac¬ 
ter  and  limits  are  rightly  understood  and  defined,  can  stand.  The 
evidence  against  any  critical  theory  which,  if  admitted,  would  be 
in  collision  with  the  authority  of  Jesus  and  of  the  apostles,  would 
so  far  forth  impinge  upon  the  faith  of  a  Christian.  But  while  this 
is  to  be  borne  in  mind,  it  is  equally  necessary  to  avoid  erroneous 
interpretations  of  their  teaching,  as  far  as  it  bears  on  literary  and 
critical  questions  in  connection  with  the  Scriptures,  their  author¬ 
ship  and  contents.  A  dogmatic  utterance  on  such  points,  on  the 
part  of  the  Saviour  or  of  the  apostles,  is  not  to  be  hastily  inferred 
from  references  and  citations  which  may  not  have  been  designed 
to  carry  this  consequence.  Not  less  essential  is  it  to  avoid  an 
incautious,  unverifrable  extension  of  the  teaching  function  which 
was  claimed  by  Jesus  for  himself,  and  was  promised  by  him  to 
the  apostles.  The  incarnation,  in  the  deeper  apprehension  of  it 
which  enters  into  the  evangelical  theology  of  the  present  time, 
is  perceived  to  involve  limitations  of  the  Saviour  himself  in  static 
humiliationis ,  which  were  formerly  ignored.  A  stricter  exegesis 
does  not  tolerate  an  artificial  exposition,  which  was  once  in  vogue, 
of  passages  which  assert  or  indicate  such  a  restriction,  voluntary 
in  its  origin,  during  the  period  when  the  Lord  was  a  man  among 
men.  It  must  be  made  clear  that  the  Lord  intended  to  declare 


342  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


himself  on  points  like  those  to  which  we  have  adverted,  and  that, 
directly  or  by  implication,  he  meant  to  include  them  within  that 
province  which  he  knew  to  belong  to  him  as  a  religious  and  ethical 
teacher,  and  in  which  he  spoke  as  “  one  having  authority.” 

If  so  much  must  be  admitted  by  the  most  reverent  disciple 
respecting  the  Great  Teacher  himself,  surely  not  less  must  be  said 
of  the  apostles.  How  far  peculiarities  of  education,  traditional 
and  current  impressions  respecting  the  topics  involved  in  biblical 
criticism,  were  left  untouched,  and  continued  to  influence  them, 

—  not  only  while  they  were  with  Jesus,  but  also  after  the  Spirit  of 
inspiration  had  qualified  them  to  go  forth  as  heralds  in  his  service, 

—  can  be  settled  by  no  a  priori  dictum,  but  only  through  pro¬ 
cesses  of  careful  study.  The  sooner  the  wise  words  of  Bishop 
Butler  are  laid  to  heart  by  Christian  people,  the  better  will  it  be 
for  their  own  peace  of  mind,  and  for  the  cause  of  Christianity  in 
its  influence  on  doubters  and  in  its  conflict  with  foes.  “  The  only 
question,”  says  Butler,  “  concerning  the  truth  of  Christianity  is 
whether  it  be  a  real  revelation,  not  whether  it  be  attended  with 
every  circumstance  which  we  should  have  looked  for ;  and,  con¬ 
cerning  the  authority  of  Scripture,  whether  it  be  what  it  claims  to 
be,  not  whether  it  be  a  book  of  such  sort,  and  so  promulged,  as 
weak  men  are  apt  to  fancy  a  book  containing  a  divine  revelation 
should  be.”  1 

The  apostles  were  empowered  to  understand  and  to  expound 
the  Gospel.  The  real  purport  and  end  of  the  mission,  the  death, 
the  resurrection,  of  Jesus  were  opened  up  to  their  vision.  His 
words,  brought  back  to  their  remembrance,  unfolded  the  hidden 
meaning  with  which  they  were  laden.  The  relation  of  the  anterior 
dispensation  to  the  new  era,  the  one  being  anticipatory  of  the 
other,  they,  if  not  instantly,  at  least  gradually,  saw  into.  Thus 
were  they  qualified  to  lead,  and  not  to  mislead,  to  teach,  and  to 
guide  the  Church.  But  not  only  were  they  men  of  like  passions 
with  ourselves,  but  in  knowledge  they  had  no  part  in  omniscience. 
That  which  inspiration  made  clear  to  them  was  not  made  clear 
instantly  and  all  at  once.  He  who  was  not  behind  the  chief  of 
the  apostles  ranked  himself  among  those  who  now  “  see  through 
a  glass,  darkly,”  and  waited  for  the  full  disclosure  of  truth  which 
should  supersede  his  dim  and  fragmentary  perceptions. 

There  is  an  order  of  things  to  be  believed.  Before  the  scrip- 
1  See  also  the  context,  Analogy,  p.  ii.  c.  iii. 


RELATION  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  FAITH  TO  THE  BIBLE  343 

tures  of  the  New  Testament,  Christ  was  preached  and  believed 
in  :  so  now,  prior  to  minute  inquiries,  and  the  exact  formulation 
of  doctrines,  about  the  canon  and  inspiration,  Christ  is  offered  to 
faith.  The  grand  outlines  of  the  Gospel,  both  on  the  side  of  fact 
and  of  doctrine,  stand  out  in  bold  relief.  They  are  attested  by 
historical  proof.  They  are  verified  by  evidences  which  are  irre¬ 
spective  of  many  of  the  subjects  of  theological  debate  and  of 
biblical  criticism.  The  recognition  of  Christ  in  his  character  as 
the  Son  of  God  and  Saviour  of  men  is  the  prerequisite  for  engaging 
successfully  in  more  remote  and  difficult  inquiries  respecting  the 
literature  and  the  history  of  revealed  religion.1 

1  The  Relation  of  Biblical  Teaching  to  Natural  Science  is  treated  in  the 
Appendix,  Note  22 ;  The  Relation  of  Biblical  Criticism  to  Prophecy,  in 
the  Appendix,  Note  23. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 

(“  First  the  blade,  then  the  ear,  then  the  full  corn  in  the  ear.” 
This  picture  Jesus  himself  drew  of  the  foreseen  expansion  of  his 
kingdom.  The  kingdom  was  to  be  “  as  if  a  man  should  cast  seed 
upon  the  earth.”  He  plants  it  and  leaves  it ;  he  sleeps  and  rises, 
“  night  and  day.”  Meantime  the  seed  springs  up  and  grows,  “  he 
knoweth  not  how.”  It  goes  through,  one  after  another,  the  stages 
of  development  up  to  the  ripeness  of  the  fruit.  A  parable,  it  need 
scarcely  be  said,  is  framed  to  illustrate  one  point,  and  is  not  to 
be  pressed  beyond  the  intended  scope.  As  rain  and  sunshine  are 
required  for  the  growth  of  wheat,  we  are  taught  elsewhere  that 
divine  influences  are  needful,  and  are  never  disconnected  from 
the  operation  of  the  truth  in  the  minds  of  men.  There  is  enough 
complementary  teaching  of  Jesus  to  preclude  any  mistake  or  one¬ 
sided  view  in  this  direction.  Yet  the  parable  shows  the  confidence 
of  Jesus  in  the  perpetuity  and  progress  of  his  kingdom.  There 
resides  in  it,  so  he  declared,  a  self-preserving,  self-developing  life. 
The  seed,  once  planted,  might  be  left  with  entire  unconcern  as  to 
its  growth.  In  these  days,  when  “  development  ”  is  a  word  on 
every  tongue,  we  are  often  told  that  the  conception  of  nature  and 
natural  law  is  foreign  to  the  Scriptures.  No  assertion  could  be 
more  mistaken.  Even  on  the  first  page  of  the  Bible,  although  the 
design  there  is  to  set  in  the  foreground  the  creative  agency  of  God, 
we  read  that  the  earth  was  bidden  to  bring  forth  the  grass,  the 
herb,  and  the  fruit-tree,  each  yielding,  “after  his  kind,”  “whose 
t  seed  is  in  itself.”  In  the  parable  of  Jesus  of  which  we  are  speak¬ 
ing  it  is  said  that  “  the  earth  bringeth  forth  fruit  of  herself,” 
that  is,  to  transfer  the  Greek  term  into  English,  “  automatically.” 
The  epithet  is  chosen  which  denotes  most  precisely  a  self-acting, 
spontaneous  energy,  inherent  in  the  seed  which  Jesus,  through  his 
discourses,  his  acts  of  mercy  and  power,  and  his  patience  unto 
death,  was  sowing  in  the  world.  This  grand  prophetic  declaration, 

344 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


345 


uttered  in  a  figure  so  simple  and  beautiful,  in  the  ears  of  a  little 
company  of  Galileans,  was  to  be  wonderfully  verified  in  the  coming 
ages  of  Christian  history. 

It  is  not,  however,  the  progress  of  Christianity  since  it  was  fully 
introduced  by  Christ  and  the  apostles  that  we  have  now  to  con¬ 
sider.  The  development  of  the  understanding  of  Christianity  on 
the  side  of  doctrine  and  of  ethics,  the  advance  to  a  more  and 
more  just  and  enlightened  comprehension  of  the  Christian  religion, 
the  unveiling  of  the  riches  of  meaning  involved  in  it,  is  a  fascinat¬ 
ing  theme.  But  all  this  belongs  under  the  head  of  the  interpreta¬ 
tion  of  Christianity,  that  term  being  used  in  a  broad  sense.  The 
religion  of  the  Gospel  means  vastly  more  to-day  than  it  was  ever 
perceived  to  mean  before.  This  enlarged  meaning,  however,  is 
not  annexed  to  it  or  carried  into  it,  but  legitimately  educed 
from  it,  through  the  ever  widening  perceptions  of  Christian  men 
whom  the  Spirit  of  God  illuminates.  The  starry  heavens  are  now 
what  they  were  of  old ;  there  is  no  enlargement  of  the  stellar 
universe  except  that  which  comes  through  the  increased  power 
and  use  of  the  telescope.  The  globe  on  which  we  dwell  to-day  is 
the  same  that  it  was  twenty  centuries  ago.  Yet  during  the  past 
ages  there  has  been  a  progressive  advance  in  astronomical  and 
geographical  discovery.  No  one  commits  the  blunder  of  con¬ 
founding  discovery  with  creation. 

What  we  have  to  speak  of  now  is  development  and  progress 
in  the  contents  of  Revelation  itself,  in  the  interval  between  its 
remotest  beginnings  and  the  epoch  when  the  apostles  finally 
handed  it  over  in  its  ripe,  consummated  form  to  the  Church,  to 
be  thereafter  promulgated  throughout  the  world.  Of  divine 
revelation  itself  the  saying  is  likewise  true,  “  First  the  blade,  then 
the  ear,  then  the  full  corn  in  the  ear.”  The  fact  that  Revelation 
was  progressive,  that  it  went  forward  like  the  advance  from  dawn 
to  noonday,  may  suggest  the  hasty,  unwarranted  conclusion  that  it 
was  a  natural  process  merely.  Some  will  be  quick  to  leap  to  this 
rash  inference.  As  regards  natural  religion,  the  fact  that  creation 
is  found  to  have  been  progressive,  that  unsuspected  links  unite  its 
consecutive  stages,  that  the  tendency  of  science  is  to  unveil  a 
certain  continuity  in  nature,  leads  the  short-sighted  to  ignore  the 
supernatural  altogether.  They  imagine  that  there  is  no  need  to 
call  in  God  to  explain  nature  except  where  breaks  are  met  in  the 
chain  of  mechanical  causation.  It  is  enough,  they  imagine,  to  be 


346  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


able  to  trace  back  the  planetary  system  to  a  fiery  vapor  preceding 
it,  as  if  the  existence,  or  the  order,  or  the  beauty,  of  the  astro¬ 
nomic  system  were  thereby  explained.  If  it  be  true  that  the  plants 
in  their  multiplied  species  “  or  kinds  ”  spring  out  of  a  few  primi¬ 
tive  germs,  or  out  of  only  one,  the  evidence  of  forethought  and 
will-power  in  the  organization  of  the  vegetable  kingdom  is  not  in 
the  least  weakened.  Nor  would  it  be  effaced  if  the  spontaneous 
generation  of  the  living  from  the  lifeless  were  an  ascertained  fact 
of  science.  It  is  another  fruit  of  that  same  unreflecting  tendency 
to  dispense  with  God  where  there  is  observed  an  orderly  progress 
of  phenomena,  which  leads  to  the  ignoring  or  denial  of  the  super¬ 
natural  in  connection  with  the  gradually  developing  religion  of 
redemption.  The  critical  researches  of  the  time  disclose  bonds 
of  connection  between  successive  stages  of  religious  and  moral 
teaching  in  the  sacred  volume.  As  in  geology,  there  is  less  need 
than  was  formerly  thought  to  fall  back  on  the  supposition  of 
catastrophes  along  the  path.  The  rudiments  of  what  once  seemed 
an  utterly  new  form  or  phase  of  doctrine  are  detected  at  a  point 
farther  back.  Behind  the  most  impressive  inculcations  of  truth 
are  found  the  more  or  less  unshapen  materials  out  of  which  they 
were  framed.  The  statue  is  followed  back  through  the  different 
sets  of  workmen  to  the  quarry  where  the  marble  was  hewn  out  of 
its  bed.  Before  the  Lord’s  Prayer  was  given  by  the  Master,  some 
of  the  petitions  contained  in  it  had  lain  dispersed,  like  grains  of 
gold,  in  the  arid  waste  of  rabbinical  teaching.  The  first  effect  on 
a  novice  in  literary  studies  of  looking  behind  Shakespeare’s  plays 
to  the  tales  out  of  which  they  were  woven,  is  to  lessen  in  some 
slight  degree  his  previous  impression  of  the  poet’s  originality.  In 
a  much  greater  degree  is  this  effect  produced  by  a  first  glance  at 
the  spoils  of  the  past  which  Milton  gathered  —  from  Homer,  the 
Greek  tragedians,  Dante  —  and  incorporated  into  his  poems. 
That  revealed  religion  is  revealed,  and  is  not  the  product  of 
human  genius,  despite  the  gradual  unfolding  of  that  religion  and 
the  coherence  of  its  parts,  becomes  increasingly  evident  the  more 
thoroughly  its  characteristics  are  appreciated.  Its  unique  charac¬ 
ter  finds  no  satisfactory  explanation  in  the  native  tendencies  of 
the  Semitic  race.  History  belies  such  a  naturalistic  solution, 
of  which  Renan  is  one  of  the  later  advocates.  This  can  be  said 
while  it  is  conceded  that  there  were,  no  doubt,  qualities  in  the 
Hebrew  people  which  caused  them  to  be  selected  as  the  recipi- 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


347 


ents  of  revelation,  and  as  witnesses  for  God  to  the  rest  of  man¬ 
kind.  When  we  contemplate  the  true  religion  in  its  long, 
continuous  advance  upward  to  its  culmination  in  the  Gospel  of 
Christ ;  when  we  survey  this  entire  course  of  history  as  a  con¬ 
nected  whole,  we  are  struck  with  the  conviction  of  super¬ 
natural  agency  and  authorship.  When  the  outcome  appears  at 
the  end  in  Jesus  Christ  and  his  work,  light  is  thrown  back  on  the 
divine  ordering  of  the  long  series  of  antecedent  steps.  The 
accompaniment  of  miracle  is  a  crowning  token,  reenforcing  all 
other  proofs  of  the  supernatural,  and  confirming  faith  by  an 
argument  to  the  senses. 

In  glancing  at  the  historic  process  of  revelation,  as  that  is  dis¬ 
closed  by  the  scriptural  documents,  there  is  one  transition  which 
none  can  overlook.  It  is  the  contrast,  on  which  the  apostle  Paul 
builds  so  much,  between  law  and  gospel,  the  old  covenant  and.  the 
new.  It  is  true  that  the  Old  Testament  is  not  wanting  in  procla¬ 
mations  of  the  merciful  character  of  God.  It  was  a  part  of  the 
life  and  soul  of  the  books  of  prophecy.  The  apostle  Paul  himself 
insists  that  the  Old  Testament  religion  was,  in  its  very  foundation, 
a  religion  of  promise,  and  that  the  function  of  the  law  was  to  fill 
an  intermediate  space  and  to  do  a  subsidiary  office,  prior  to  the 
realization  of  the  promise.  His  doctrine  is,  moreover,  that  even 
the  Gospel  contains  a  new  disclosure  of  God’s  righteousness, 
which  was  made  necessary  by  his  having  passed  over  human  sins 
in  the  period  of  comparative  ignorance.  The  atonement  pre¬ 
vents  the  misconstruction  which  the  divine  forbearance  in  dealing 
with  law-breakers  in  the  earlier  times  might  occasion.  Still, 
the  older  revelation  of  God  was  comparatively  a  manifestation 
designed  to  impress  on  those  to  whom  it  was  made  his  justice 
and  unsparing  abhorrence  of  transgression.  Only  as  far  as  ill-desert 
is  felt  can  pardon  be  either  given  or  received.  An  education  of 
conscience  must  precede  a  dispensation  of  grace.  The  later 
revelation  was  one  of  forgiving  love.  The  superiority  of  Christi¬ 
anity  to  the  Old  Testament  religion  is  the  subject  of  the  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews.  Its  author  will  show  that  Christ  is  the  “  medi¬ 
ator  of  a  better  covenant  ”  —  a  covenant  with  “  better  promises.” 
“  For,”  he  pointedly  remarks,  “if  that  first  covenant  had  been 
faultless,”  there  would  have  been  no  occasion  and  no  room  for 
the  second.  The  world-embracing  compass  of  God’s  love,  its 
inclusion  of  the  Gentile  races,  was  one  of  the  prime  elements  in 


348  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

the  Gospel.  This  was  the  “  mystery  ”  which  had  been  hidden 
from  “  ages  and  generations.”  The  ordinary  meaning  of  the 
term  “mystery”  in  the  New  Testament  writings  is  not  something 
which  is  still  unknown  or  inscrutable,  but  something  which  had 
before  been  concealed  from  human  knowledge,  but  had  now  been 
brought  to  light.  And  the  term  is  specially  applied  to  the  pur¬ 
pose  of  God  to  show  mercy  to  the  world  of  mankind  —  a  purpose 
which  had  been  partially  concealed  from  men,  or  at  best  but 
obscurely  divined.  That  in  the  older  dispensation  rules  were  in 
the  foreground ;  in  the  later,  principles,  is  a  more  comprehensive 
statement  of  the  difference. 

What  precisely  was  the  conception  of  God  which  was  enter¬ 
tained  in  the  earliest  periods  of  Hebrew  history  is  a  subject  of 
debate.  There  are  questions  which  will  be  settled  variously, 
according  to  the  different  views  which  are  adopted  respecting 
the  date  and  relative  authority  of  the  documents.  That  the  pro¬ 
cess  of  expelling  the  vestiges  of  polytheism  and  image-worship  from 
the  practices  of  the  Israelitish  people  was  accomplished  slowly,  is 
sufficiently  clear.  The  cult  of  household  images  did  not  at  once 
disappear.  The  assumption,  involved  in  language  uttered  by  the 
heathen,  that  the  gods  of  other  nations  than  Israel  are  real  beings 
and  exercise  power,  although  it  may  be  less  than  the  power  of 
Israel’s  God,  of  itself  determines  nothing  as  to  the  doctrine  of 
Israel’s  own  accredited  teachers.  But  Jethro,  although  a  Midian- 
ite  prince,  was  the  father-in-law  of  Moses,  and  we  find  him  saying, 
“Now  I  know  that  the  Lord  is  greater  than  all  gods.”  Jephthah 
says  to  a  Moabite  king  :  “  Wilt  thou  not  possess  that  which  Che- 
mosh  thy  god  giveth  thee  to  possess?  So  whomsoever  the  Lord 
our  God  hath  dispossessed  from  before  us,  them  will  we  possess.” 
Even  Solomon  wavered  in  his  beliefs  on  this  subject.  Side  by  side 
with  the  altars  of  Jehovah  he  built  altars  to  foreign  gods.  Even  in 
the  early  Church  the  idea  prevailed  that  the  deities  of  the  heathen 
were  demons  —  really  existing,  but  evil  and  inferior  in  power.  It 
would  be  natural  for  the  half- enlightened  Hebrews  to  imagine  that 
there  was  some  sort  of  territorial  limit  to  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
God  whom  they  worshipped.  An  indistinct  idea  of  this  kind  is  at 
least  a  natural  explanation  of  the  story  of  the  attempted  flight  of 
the  prophet  Jonah  to  Tarshish,  which  lay  on  the  western  border 
of  the  Mediterranean.  There  is  a  curious  disclosure  of  a  natural 
feeling  in  the  fact  recorded,  without  censure  or  comment  of  any 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


349 


sort,  of  Naaman,  the  Syrian  captain.  He  craved  permission  to  take 
into  Syria  two  mules’  burden  of  earth,  —  the  sacred  soil  of  Israel, 
—  that  upon  it  he  might  offer  sacrifice  to  Jehovah.  Scholars  of 
high  repute  consider  the  earliest  belief  of  the  descendants  of 
Abraham  to  have  fallen  short  of  a  positive  monotheism,  and  to 
have  been  rather  a  monolatry,  —  the  worship  of  one  God  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  other  worship,  but  without  an  explicit  disbelief  in 
the  existence  of  other  divinities  who  have  respectively  their  own 
earthly  realms  to  govern.  Then  the  progress  of  faith  would 
include,  first,  the  idea  of  the  God  of  Israel  as  more  powerful  than 
all  other  deities  ;  and  then,  later,  the  ascription  to  him  of  almighti- 
ness,  and  the  distinct  conviction  that  all  other  gods  are  fictitious 
beings.  The  path  from  a  more  narrow  conception  of  God  to  a 
pure  and  absolute  monotheism  involved  a  deepening  ethical  idea 
of  the  attributes  of  Israel’s  God.  Wellhausen  writes,  “  Jehovah  be¬ 
came  the  God  of  Justice  and  Right;  as  God  of  Justice  and  Right 
he  came  to  be  thought  of  as  the  highest,  and  at  last  as  the  only, 
power  in  heaven  and  earth.”  The  reader  of  statements  of  this 
kind  should  bear  in  mind  that  we  are  in  a  field  where  preposses¬ 
sion  and  speculative  theorizing  play  a  great  part.  If  Jehovah,  at 
the  outset,  was  regarded  as  simply  the  tribal  god,  the  sovereign 
protector  of  that  one  people,  while  the  other  nations  were  imag¬ 
ined  to  have  each  its  own  guardian  divinity,  the  expansion  of  this 

A 

primitive  notion  into  the  pure  and  lofty  conception  of  the  only 
true  and  living  God,  the  world’s  creator  and  ruler,  which  is  pre¬ 
sented  in  soul-stirring  language  by  the  most  ancient  prophets,  is  a 
marvel.  The  transformation  is  really  insoluble  on  any  naturalistic 
theory.  Even  on  the  supposition  that  there  was  this  gradual  up¬ 
lifting  of  religion  from  the  low  plane  on  which  all  pagan  nations 
stood,  and  that  the  notion  of  a  mere  local  divinity,  of  limited 
control,  gave  way  to  the  majestic  conception  of  one  Lord  of 
heaven  and  earth,  the  maker  of  all  things,  the  ruler  of  nations, 
the  universal  sovereign,  —  no  conclusion  would  be  so  reasonable 
as  that  God  Almighty  took  this  method  of  gradually  disclosing 
his  being  and  attributes  to  that  portion  of  the  human  race  from 
whom,  as  from  a  centre,  the  light  of  the  true  faith  was  eventually 
to  radiate  to  the  rest  of  mankind. 

Neither  the  Hebrew  people  generally  nor  their  leaders  were 
metaphysicians.  In  the  earlier  ages  especially,  they  entered  into 
no  analytic  discrimination  of  matter  and  spirit.  They  pictured 


350  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


to  themselves  the  varied  activities  of  God,  of  whose  personality 
they  had  the  most  vivid  idea,  in  phrases  descriptive  of  the  feel¬ 
ings  and  actions  of  human  beings.  It  is  remarkable  that  the 
anthropomorphism  of  the  scriptural  writers  is  predominantly  in 
what  is  related  of  Jehovah,  the  name  of  God  in  his  relation  to  the 
chosen  people,  —  the  Deity  (Elohim)  as  the  God  of  Revelation. 
At  length,  by  explicit  statute,  all  visible  representations  of  God 
were  forbidden  as  profane.  In  Deuteronomy,  as  in  Exodus, 
images  of  him  are  prohibited.  “Ye  saw  no  manner  of  form  on 
the  day  that  the  Lord  spake  unto  you  in  Horeb”  (Deut.  iv.  15). 
The  prophets  guarded  against  all  material  associations  attaching 
to  the  notion  of  the  Supreme  Being.  A  distinct  step  in  this 

direction  is  to  be  observed  in  a  passage  in  Isaiah,  where  it  is  said, 

“Now  the  Egyptians  are  men,  and  not  God;  and  their  horses 
flesh,  and  not  spirit”  (Is.  xxxi.  3).  Yet  it  is  not  definitely  said 
in  the  Old  Testament  that  God  is  a  spirit.  This  was  the  declara¬ 
tion  of  Jesus  to  the  woman  of  Samaria. 

The  universal  Providence  of  God  is  a  cardinal  element  in 
Christian  theism.  Nothing  is  independent  of  him.  There  is  no 
province  exempt  from  his  control,  where  rival  agencies  hold  sway 
and  thwart  his  designs.  We  can  easily  understand  why,  in  the 

early  stages  of  revelation,  all  emphasis  should  be  laid  on  the 

sovereign  power  of  God,  and  why  a  clear  separation  of  his  direct 
efficiency  from  his  permissive  act  should  be  reserved  for  a  later 
day.  It  was  always  taught,  indeed,  and  holds  true  for  all  time, 
that  according  to  a  law  of  habit,  of  which  the  Creator  of  the  soul 
is  the  author  and  sustainer,  sin  engenders  further  sin.  A  self- 
propagating  power  inheres  in  transgression.  In  numberless  ex¬ 
amples  it  is  observed  that  sin  is  thus  the  penalty  of  sin.  It  is  true 
now,  as  it  was  always  true,  that  a  loss  of  moral  discernment  and  a 
fixedness  of  perverse  inclination  are  an  ordained  effect  of  persist¬ 
ent  evil-doing.  The  law  which  entails  this  result  is  but  another 
name  for  a  divine  operation.  Hence  it  is  a  false  and  superficial 
theology  which  will  find  no  place  for  “judicial  blindness  ”  and  for 
a  “  hardening  of  heart  ”  that  deserves  to  be  called  a  judgment  of 
God.  So  far  the  scriptures  of  the  New  Testament  are  in  full 
accord  with  the  scriptures  of  the  Old.  But  there  are  certain 
forms  of  representation  which,  in  the  introductory  periods  of  Reve¬ 
lation,  go  beyond  these  statements,  and  ascribe  to  God  a  positive 
and  immediate  agency  in  the  production  of  moral  evil.  Some- 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


351 


times  the  hardening  of  the  heart  is  spoken  of  as  if  it  were  the  end 
which  is  directly  aimed  at.  Such  passages,  taken  by  themselves, 
would  warrant  the  harshest  doctrine  of  reprobation  which  hyper- 
Calvinism  has  ever  broached.  The  proper  treatment  of  such 
passages  is  not — certainly  not  in  all  cases  —  to  pronounce  them 
hyperboles.  It  is  not  through  unnatural  devices  of  interpretation 
that  we  are  to  rid  ourselves  of  the  difficulty  which  passages  of  this 
nature  occasion.  The  reference  of  them  to  a  fervid  rhetoric  —  in 
some  instances,  to  say  the  least  —  may  not  be  the  right  solution. 
Why  may  we  not  see  in  them  that  vivid  idea  of  God’s  limitless 
power  and  providence  which  has  not  yet  arrived  at  the  point,  or 
felt  the  need,  of  qualifying  the  conception  by  theological  discrimi¬ 
nations?  If  it  be  asked  how  it  was  possible  to  reconcile  the 
perception  of  the  ill-desert  of  sin  with  the  ascription  of  it  to  God’s 
causal  agency,  the  answer  is  that  the  question  of  their  consistency 
was  not  thought  of.  Reflection  was  required  before  their  incon¬ 
sistency  could  attract  attention,  and  the  need  of  removing  it  be 
felt.  In  more  than  one  philosophical  system  —  for  example,  in 
Stoicism  —  there  is  found  an  earnest  ethical  feeling,  which  con¬ 
demns  wrong  action,  side  by  side  with  a  metaphysical  theory  as 
to  the  origin  of  moral  evil  which  logically  clashes  with  such  an 
abhorrence  of  it.  The  two  judgments  do  not  jostle  each  other, 
because  they  are  not  brought  together  in  the  thoughts  of  those 
who  entertain  them.  Where  there  is  more  reflection  in  the  mat¬ 
ter,  as  in  Spinoza  and  his  followers,  it  is  still  possible  to  keep  up 
a  degree  of  moral  disapproval  along  with  a  theory  which  really 
ought  to  banish  it  as  absurd.  In  the  ancient  scriptures,  and 
occasionally  in  the  New  Testament,  especially  in  passages  cited 
from  the  Old,  the  evil-doing  and  perdition  of  classes  of  men,  their 
misunderstanding  and  perversion  of  the  truth,  are  set  forth  as 
ends  in  themselves.  Being  involved  in  the  circle  of  occurrences 
which  are  comprised  in  the  general  scheme  of  Providence,  they 
are  no  surprise  to  him  who  carries  it  forward.  They  were  fore¬ 
seen  and  taken  into  the  account  from  the  beginning.  It  was 
arranged  that  they  should  be  overruled  and  made  the  occasion  of 
good.  Their  relation  to  Providence  is  emphasized  in  speaking  of 
them  as  being  directly  aimed  at  and  pursued  on  their  own  account, 
or  for  the  sake  of  an  ulterior  benefit.  As  we  follow  down  the 
progress  of  Revelation,  we  see  that  needful  distinctions  are  more 
frequently  made  and  more  carefully  insisted  on.  In  the  second 


352  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


book  of  Samuel  (xxiv.  i)  it  is  said  that  God  “  moved  ”  David 
against  Israel,  with  whom  he  was  displeased,  and  bade  him  go 
and  number  the  people.  The  impulse  or  resolution  of  David,  on 
account  of  which  he  was  subsequently  struck  with  compunction, 
is  there  said  to  have  emanated  directly  from  God  himself.  But 
in  the  later  history  (i  Chron.  xxi.  i),  in  the  record  of  the  same 
transaction,  we  read  that  it  was  Satan  who  “  provoked  David  to 
number  Israel.”  The  earlier  writer  does  not  hesitate  to  describe 
God’s  providential  act  as  if  it  were  the  direct  object  of  his  prefer¬ 
ence, —  an  explicit  injunction  ;  and  the  fact  of  David’s  repentance 
for  doing  the  act  does  not  present  to  the  writer’s  mind  any  diffi¬ 
culty.  The  chronicler,  from  a  later  point  of  view,  sets  forth  the 
act  of  David  in  such  a  way  as  to  exclude,  if  not  to  contradict, 
the  supposition  that  it  was  God  who  prompted  it. 

The  gradualness  of  the  disclosure  of  the  merciful  character  of 
God  is  one  of  the  most  obvious  features  of  Revelation.  One  part 
of  this  disclosure  pertains  to  the  heathen,  and  to  the  light  in  which 
they  are  regarded.  It  was  natural  that  the  contempt  and  loathing 
which  idolatry  and  the  abominations  of  paganism  excited  in  the 
heart  of  the  pious  Israelite  —  feelings  which  the  Mosaic  revelation 
developed  and  stimulated  —  should  be  felt  towards  heathen  wor¬ 
shippers  themselves.  The  hatred  thus  begotten  might  awaken  an 
implacable  desire  that  vengeance  should  fall  upon  them.  An 
impressive  rebuke  of  this  unmerciful  sentiment,  and  what  is  really 
a  distinct  advance  in  the  inculcation  of  an  opposite  feeling,  is 
found  in  the  book  of  Jonah.  There  are  reasons  which  have  availed 
to  satisfy  critics  as  learned  and  impartial  as  Bleek,  who  are 
influenced  by  no  prejudice  against  miracles  as  such,  that  this 
remarkable  book  was  originally  meant  to  be  an  apologue,  —  an 
imaginative  story,  linked  to  the  name  of  an  historical  person,  a 
prophet  of  an  earlier  date,  —  and  was  composed  in  order  to  incul¬ 
cate  the  lesson  with  which  the  narrative  concludes.  One  thing 
brought  out  by  the  experience  of  Jonah  is  that  God’s  mercy  is  so 
great  that  even  an  explicit  threat  of  dire  calamities  may  be  left 
unfulfilled,  in  case  there  intervene  repentance  on  the  part  of  those 
against  whom  it  was  directed.  The  prophet,  who  was  exasperated 
at  the  sparing  of  the  Ninevites,  was  taught  how  narrow  and  cruel 
his  ideas  were,  by  the  symbol  of  the  gourd,  “  which  came  up  in  a 
night,  and  perished  in  a  night.”  He  was  incensed  on  account  of 
the  withering  of  the  gourd  which  had  shielded  his  head  from  the 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


353 


sun.  The  Lord  referred  to  Jonah’s  having  had  pity  on  the  gourd, 
and  said,  “  And  should  not  I  spare  Nineveh,  that  great  city, 
wherein  are  more  than  sixscore  thousand  persons  that  cannot  dis¬ 
cern  between  their  right  hand  and  their  left  hand ;  and  also  much 
cattle?  ”  This  humane  utterance,  in  which  pity  is  expressed  even 
for  dumb  brutes,  is  memorable  for  being  an  important  landmark  in 
Scripture,  since  it  marks  a  widened  view  of  God’s  compassion. 
To  illustrate  this  truth  the  narrative  was  written,  and  toward  it  as 
onward  to  a  goal  it  steadily  moves.  It  is  a  mistake  to  think  that 
ill-will  toward  heathen  nations  pervades  the  Old  Testament. 
When  they  were  full  of  animosity  against  the  kingdom  of  God  and 
determined  to  destroy  it,  anger  burned  fiercely  against  them,  and 
prayers  went  up  for  their  defeat  and  destruction.  Very  different 
was  the  feeling  with  which  Cyrus  and  the  Persians  were  regarded. 
We  find  that  the  conversion  of  the  heathen  nations  becomes  an 
object  of  devout  aspiration.  The  sublime  prayer  of  Solomon,  at 
the  dedication  of  the  temple,  for  the  “  stranger  ”  and  “  the  peoples 
of  the  earth,”  is  only  one  of  the  passages  in  which  this  feeling  is 
poured  out.  In  Micah,  who  was  not  the  latest  of  the  prophets,  we 
find  the  prediction  that  unto  the  mountain  of  the  Lord  the  heathen 
peoples  will  flow,  will  ask  to  be  taught  of  his  ways,  and  will  prom¬ 
ise  to  “  walk  in  his  paths  ”  (Micah  iv.  1-4).  An  idea  of  the  king¬ 
dom  at  once  so  comprehensive  and  so  spiritual  was  the  fruit  of  time 
and  progress. 

The  truth  of  a  righteous  moral  government  over  the  world  per¬ 
vades  Revelation  from  the  beginning.  Obedience  to  law  will  not 
fail  of  its  due  reward ;  guilt  will  be  punished  in  a  just  measure. 
But  under  the  Old  Testament  system,  nearly  to  its  close,  the 
theatre  of  reward  and  penalty  was  confined  to  this  world.  The 
horizon  was  practically  bounded  by  the  limits  of  the  earthly  life. 
It  was  here,  on  earth,  that  well-doing  was  to  secure  the  appropriate 
blessing,  and  sin  to  encounter  its  meet  retribution.  The  Israelite, 
like  other  men  of  antiquity,  was  wrapped  up  in  the  state.  He  felt 
that  his  weal  or  woe  hinged  on  the  fortunes  of  the  community  in 
whose  well-being  his  affections  were,  in  a  degree  beyond  our 
modern  experience,  absorbed.  The  prophets  never  ceased  to 
thunder  forth  the  proclamation  that  the  fate  of  the  community 
would  be  surely,  in  the  providence  of  God,  determined  by  its 
fidelity  or  its  disloyalty  to  its  moral  and  religious  obligations.  If 
they  deserted  God,  he  would  forsake  them.  The  people  were  to 


354  THE  grounds  of  theistic  and  Christian  belief 


be  rewarded  or  punished,  blessed  or  cursed,  as  a  body.  And  so  in 
reality  their  experience  proved.  Moreover,  as  regards  the  single 
family  and  the  individual,  the  tendencies  of  righteous  action^ 
under  the  laws  of  Providence,  were  then,  as  always,  on  the  whole 
favorable  to  the  upright  in  heart.  The  arrangements  of  Providence 
were  in  their  favor.  But  in  process  of  time  it  became  more  and 
more  painfully  evident  that  this  rule  was  not  without  numerous 
exceptions.  The  righteous  man  was  not  uniformly  prospered. 
He  might  be  poor,  he  might  be  oppressed,  he  might  be  condemned 
to  endure  physical  torture,  he  might  perish  in  the  midst  of  his 
days.  On  the  other  hand,  the  wicked  man  was  often  seen  to 
thrive.  His  wealth  increased.  He  grew  in  power  and  influence. 
His  life  was  prolonged.  How  could  the  justice  of  God  be 
defended?  How  could  the  allotments  of  Providence  —  this  dis¬ 
harmony  between  character  and  earthly  fortune  —  be  vindicated  ? 
This  problem  became  the  more  anxious  and  perplexing  as  the 
minds  of  men  grew  to  be  more  observant  and  reflective.  How  to 
explain  the  lack  of  correspondence  between  the  condition  and  the 
deserts  of  the  individual  ?  This  problem  is  the  groundwork  of 
the  book  of  Job.  A  righteous  man  is  overwhelmed  by  calamities 
one  after  another.  His  lot  is  to  himself  a  dark  and  terrible 
mystery.  But  his  consolers,  when  they  break  silence,  solve  it  in 
the  only  way  known  to  their  theology.  Such  exceptional  suffering 
implies  an  exceptional  amount  of  guilt.  Job  must  have  been  a 
flagrant  transgressor.  Of  this  fact  his  dismal  situation  is  proof 
positive.  The  wrath  of  Jehovah  is  upon  him.  Conscious  of  the 
injustice  of  the  allegation  brought  against  him,  yet  unable  to  con¬ 
fute  the  logic  of  it,  Job  can  do  nothing  but  break  out  in  loud  com¬ 
plaints  extorted  by  his  anguish  and  the  bewilderment  into  which 
he  is  thrown.  He  cannot  see  any  equity  in  the  lot  which  has  be¬ 
fallen  him.  His  outcries  give  vent  to  a  pessimistic  view  of  the  world 
and  of  the  divine  management  of  it.  Another  interlocutor  brings 
forward  the  inscrutable  character  of  God’s  doings.  What  more 
vain  and  arrogant  than  for  so  weak  and  helpless  a  creature  as  man 
to  pretend  to  sound  the  unfathomable  counsels  of  the  Almighty, 
or  to  sit  in  judgment  on  his  ordinances?  This,  of  course,  is  a 
rebuke,  but  contains  no  satisfactory  answer  to  the  questions  which 
the  distress  of  Job  wrings  from  him.  But  the  real  answer  is  given. 
Afflictions  may  have  other  ends  than  to  punish.  They  may  be 
trials  of  the  righteousness  of  a  servant  of  God.  They  are  a  test 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


355 


to  decide  whether  it  springs  out  of  a  mercenary  motive.  Hence 
it  is  not  to  be  inferred  that  his  sufferings  are  the  measure  of  his 
ill-desert.  Thus  a  distinct  advance  is  made  in  the  theodicy. 
New  vistas  are  opened.  Pain  has  other  designs  and  uses  besides 
the  retributive  function.  Yet  at  the  end  Job’s  possessions  and  his 
earthly  prosperity  are  restored  to  him.  The  feeling  that  even 
here  on  earth  there  must  be,  sooner  or  later,  an  equalizing  of 
character  and  fortune,  is  not  wholly  given  up. 

External  evidence  is  of  no  service  in  determining  the  date  of 
the  book  of  Job.  Internal  evidence,  especially  the  character  of 
its  themes  and  reasonings,  indicate  that  it  could  not  have  been 
written  earlier  than  when  the  monarchy  was  verging  on  its  down¬ 
fall.  Another  book,  Ecclesiastes,  belongs  to  a  period  when  doubt 
and  speculation  had  made  a  much  further  advance.  It  may  be¬ 
long  to  the  closing  days  of  the  Persian,  or  the  early  days  of  the 
Greek,  dominion.  It  is  the  composition  of  a  keen-sighted  ob¬ 
server  of  human  life  in  its  multiform  aspects  and,  it  would  seem, 
with  a  large  personal  experience  of  its  necessities.  In  the  course 
of  a  stream  of  sceptical  and  pessimistic  utterances  on  human  ex¬ 
istence  as  a  scene  of  inevitable  disappointment,  with  no  hope  of 
a  hereafter,  we  find  interjected,  here  and  there,  the  recognition 
of  God  and  his  government.  We  reach  at  the  close  a  solemn 
reminder  of  the  righteous  order  under  his  sway  and  of  duty  as  the 
sum  of  human  wisdom.  To  some  of  the  critics  this  conclusion 
appears  to  be  the  supplement  of  another  writer  or  editor,  but  as 
Driver  suggests,  it  may  quite  as  probably  have  sprung  from  the  sense 
of  the  need  on  the  part  of  the  author,  of  such  a  conclusion,  to 
counteract  the  impression  of  the  preceding  portions  of  his  work. 
The  species  of  doubt,  leading  to  an  almost  cynical  tone,  which 
characterize  it,  indicate  that  speculation  and  even  rationalizing 
were  coming  in.  The  book  has  perplexed  alike  ancient  Jews  and 
modern  Christian  theologians  and  critics.  It  was  not  until  after 
centuries  that  at  the  Jewish  council  of  Jamnia  (about  90  a.d.)  its 
admission  to  the  Canon  of  the  Old  Testament  was  sanctioned. 
It  is  one  of  the  books  which  compel  the  perception  of  different 
degrees  of  inspiration  in  the  scriptures.  Its  admission  into  the 
canon  is  not  to  be  regretted.  It  has  a  part  in  the  Old  Testament 
documents  in  showing  us  the  successive  phases  of  the  Hebrew 
religious  consciousness  in  its  age-long  development  under  the 
tutelage  of  Providence  and  the  unerring  light  upon  things  not 
seen,  imparted  by  the  spirit  of  God. 


356  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


Besides  the  lesson  conveyed  in  the  book  of  Job,  it  was  revealed 
then  to  the  religious  mind  that  suffering,  besides  being  inflicted 
as  the  wages  of  sin,  might  also  be  sent  to  put  to  the  test  the  stead¬ 
fastness  of  the  sufferer’s  loyalty  to  God,  to  prove  the  unselfish¬ 
ness  of  piety  (by  showing  that  it  might  survive  the  loss  of  all 
personal  advantages  resulting  from  it),  and  to  fortify  the  soul  in 
its  principle  of  obedience  and  trust.  But  relief  from  perplexity 
in  view  of  the  calamities  of  the  righteous  came  from  another 
source.  This  was  the  perception  of  the  vicarious  character  of  the 
righteous  man’s  affliction.  This  idea  emerges  to  view  in  a  distinct 
form  in  the  great  prophets.  The  pious  portion  of  Israel,  the  kernel 
of  the  people,  suffer  not  for  their  own  sake,  but  on  account  of  the 
sins  of  the  nation,  and  as  a  means  of  saving  it  from  deserved  pen¬ 
alties  and  from  utter  destruction.  This  view  is  brought  out  by 
Isaiah  in  his  description  of  the  servant  of  Jehovah.  The  concep¬ 
tion  is  gradually  narrowed  from  Israel  as  a  whole,  or  the  select 
portion  of  Israel,  and  becomes  more  concrete ;  so  that  in  the 
fifty-third  chapter  the  sufferer  appears  to  take  on  the  distinct 
character  of  an  individual,  the  Messianic  deliverer.  It  is  declared 
that  the  popular  judgment  respecting  the  sufferer,  which  attributes 
to  him  personal  guilt,  and  sees  in  his  lot  the  frown  of  God,  is  mis¬ 
taken.  Penalties  are  laid  on  him,  he  is  taking  on  himself  penalties 
which  not  he,  but  others,  deserve  to  bear.  How  this  principle  of 
vicarious  service  is  illustrated  in  the  life  and  death  of  Jesus,  and 
how  abundantly  it  is  set  forth  in  the  New  Testament,  it  is  need¬ 
less  to  say.  The  men  whose  blood  Pilate  had  mingled  with 
their  own  sacrifices  were  not  sinners  above  all  the  Galileans. 
The  eighteen  on  whom  the  tower  of  Siloam  fell  were  not 
offenders  above  all  men  that  dwelt  in  Jerusalem.  Who  had 
sinned,  the  blind  man  or  his  parents,  that  he  was  bom  blind? 
His  blindness,  Jesus  replied,  was  not  a  penalty  for  the  sin  of 
either.  This  problem  of  the  distribution  here  on  earth  of  suffer¬ 
ing  in  discordance  with  desert,  of  which  we  are  speaking,  had 
new  light  shed  upon  it  by  the  gradually  developing  faith  in  the 
future  life ;  but  of  this  point  I  will  speak  further  on.  In  general, 
the  contrast  between  the  general  tenor  of  Old  Testament  descrip¬ 
tions  of  the  reward  of  the  righteous,  and  of  the  New  Testament 
declarations  on  the  same  theme,  is  very  marked.  In  the  Old 
Testament  it  is  riches,  numerous  children,  safety  of  person  and  of 
property,  which  are  so  often  assured  to  the  righteous.  The  words 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


357 


of  Jesus  are,  “  In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation.”  Yet  the 
essential  character  of  God,  the  eternal  principle  of  justice  that 
will  somehow  and  somewhere  be  carried  out  in  the  government 
of  the  world,  is  at  the  root  alike  in  both  dispensations. 

He  who  would  appreciate  the  progress  of  Revelation  has  only 
need  to  compare  the  silence  as  to  a  hereafter  and  the  gloom  that 
encompasses  the  grave  —  characteristic  features  of  ancient  Scrip¬ 
ture —  with  the  definite  assurances  and  the  triumphant  hopes 
which  are  scattered  over  the  pages  of  the  New  Testament.  On 
this  subject  we  can  trace  the  advance  from  the  night  to  the 
brightening  dawn,  and  from  the  dawn  to  midday.  The  hopes  and 
aspirations  of  the  ancient  Israelites  were  bounded  by  the  limits 
of  the  present  life.  Their  joys  and  sorrows  were  here  ;  here,  as 
we  have  seen,  were  their  rewards  and  punishments.  It  is  true 
they  did  not  positively  believe  that  their  being  was  utterly  extin¬ 
guished  at  death.  On  the  contrary,  they  found  it  impossible  so 
to  think.  There  was  some  kind  of  continuance  of  their  being, 
vague  and  shadowy  though  it  was.  When  it  is  said  of  the  worthies 
of  old  that  they  died  and  were  “  gathered  to  their  fathers,”  it  is 
not  to  their  burial  —  certainly  not  to  their  burial  alone  —  that  the 
phrase  points.  It  was  used  of  those  who  died  far  away  from  their 
kindred.  A  continued  subsistence  of  some  sort  is  implied  in  it. 
Necromancy  was  a  practice  which  was  forbidden  by  law ;  and  the 
need  of  such  a  law  proves  that  the  belief  and  custom  prohibited 
by  it  had  taken  root.  The  story  of  the  appearance  of  Samuel, 
and  the  occupation  of  the  witch  of  Endor,  show  at  least  a  popular 
notion  that  the  dead  could  be  summoned  back  to  life.  Sheol,  the 
Hades  of  the  Israelites,  was  thought  of  as  a  dark,  subterranean 
abode,  a  land  of  shades,  where  existence  was  almost  too  dim  to 
be  denominated  life.  There  was  nothing  in  this  unsubstantial 
mode  of  being  to  kindle  hope,  or  to  excite  any  other  emotion 
than  that  of  dread.  In  the  poetical  books,  Sheol  is  personified 
and  depicted  as  full  of  greed,  opening  her  mouth  “  without  meas¬ 
ure,”  and  swallowing  up  all  the  pomp  and  glory  of  man.  In  a 
splendid  passage  of  Isaiah,  Sheol  is  represented  as  disturbed  by 
the  approach  within  her  gloomy  domain  of  the  once  mighty  king  * 
of  Babylon,  and  as  stirring  up  the  shades,  the  dead  monarchs,  to 
meet  him.  They  exult  over  his  downfall  and  death,  crying,  “  Is 
this  the  man  who  made  the  earth  to  tremble,  who  made  kingdoms 
to  quake,  who  made  the  world  as  a  wilderness,  and  broke  down 


358  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


the  cities  thereof  ?  ”  But  this  is  only  a  highly  figurative  delinea¬ 
tion  of  the  humiliating  fall  and  death  of  the  arrogant,  dreaded 
sovereign.  It  is  not  until  we  have  passed  beyond  the  earlier  writ¬ 
ings  of  the  Old  Testament  that  we  meet,  here  and  there,  with 
cheerful  and  even  confident  expressions  of  hope  in  relation  to  the 
life  beyond  death.  In  the  later  Psalms  there  is  an  occasional 
utterance  in  this  vein.  The  sense  of  the  soul’s  communion  with 
God  is  so  uplifting  as  to  forbid  the  idea  that  it  can  be  broken  by 
death.  Jesus  refers  to  the  Old  Testament  declaration  that  God 
is  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  as  a  sufficient  warrant 
for  the  belief  in  the  continued  immortal  life  of  those  who  stood 
in  this  near,  exalted  relation  to  the  Eternal  One.  What  other  — 
at  least  what  higher  —  evidence  of  immortality  is  there  than  is 
derived  from  the  worth  of  the  soul ;  and  what  indication  of  its 
worth  is  to  be  compared  with  its  capacity  to  enter  into  living 
fellowship  with  God?  How  can  a  being  who  is  admitted  to  this 
fellowship  be  left  to  perish,  to  exist  no  more? 

Besides  this  connection  of  faith  in  a  future  life  with  the  relation 
of  the  righteous  and  believing  soul  to  God,  the  demand  for  an¬ 
other  state  of  being  to  rectify  inequalities  here  arose  by  degrees  in 
religious  minds.  The  strange  allotment  of  good  and  evil,  whereby 
the  good  man,  and  not  the  bad  man,  was  often  seen  to  be  the  suf¬ 
ferer,  and  the  holy  were  found  to  be  maligned  and  the  victims  of 
oppression,  led  to  the  expectation  of  a  life  beyond,  where  this  con¬ 
fusion  would  be  cleared  up  and  an  adjustment  be  made  according 
to  merit.  The  moral  argument,  which  Kant,  and  others  before 
|and  since,  have  presented  as  the  ground  for  believing  in  a  future 
state,  was  a  revelation  from  God  to  the  Hebrew  mind,  and  not  the 
less  so  because  this  belief  stood  connected  with  experiences  and 
perceptions  that  went  before.  There  is  a  familiar  passage  in  the 
book  of  Job  in  which  the  hope  of  a  reawakening  from  death  is 
perhaps  expressed.  It  is  the  passage  beginning,  “  I  know  that 
my  Redeemer  ”  —  or  Vindicator  —  “  liveth.”  The  confessions  of 
hopelessness  in  earlier  portions  of  the  book,  the  impassioned  asser¬ 
tions  that  there  is  nothing  to  be  looked  for  beyond  death,  are  to 
be  counted  in  favor  of  the  other  interpretation,  according  to  which 
Job  expected  that  his  vindication  would  occur  prior  to  his  actual 
dissolution.  On  the  contrary,  however,  it  is  not  improbable  that 
the  foresight  of  an  actual  reawakening  to  life  is  represented  as 
having  flashed  upon  his  mind,  displacing  the  former  despondency. 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


359 


Certain  it  is  that  distinct  assertions  of  a  resurrection  appear,  here 
and  there,  in  the  later  Scriptures.  For  in  the  biblical  theology  it 
is  the  deliverance  of  the  whole  man,  body  as  well  as  soul,  which 
in  process  of  time  comes  to  be  the  established  belief.  It  is  closely 
associated  with  the  conviction  that  in  the  triumph  and  blessedness 
of  the  kingdom  the  departed  saints  are  not  to  be  deprived  of  a 
share.  It  was  not  a  belief  derived  from  the  Persians,  but  was  in¬ 
digenous  among  the  Hebrews,  —  an  integral  part  of  revelation,  — 
however  it  may  have  been  encouraged  and  stimulated  by  contact 
with  Persian  tenets.  Not  to  refer  to  statements,  relative  to  a  resur¬ 
rection,  of  a  symbolical  character,  —  such  as  the  vision  of  dry  bones 
in  Ezekiel,  —  we  find  in  the  twenty-sixth  chapter  of  Isaiah  a  pas¬ 
sage  which  is  explicit,  and,  as  it  would  seem,  is  to  be  taken  literally. 
In  the  Revised  Version  the  passage  reads,  “Thy  dead  shall  live ; 
my  dead  bodies  shall  arise.”  There  is  a  critical  question,  it  should 
be  stated,  as  to  the  date  of  the  chapter  in  which  these  words 
occur.  In  the  Psalms  there  are  not  wholly  wanting  passages  of  a 
like  purport.  In  the  book  of  Daniel,  which  belongs,  certainly  in 
its  present  compass,  to  the  Maccabean  period,  the  resurrection  of 
both  the  righteous  and  the  wicked  Israelites  is  very  definitely  pre¬ 
dicted.  As  is  well  known,  the  resurrection  was  an  accepted  doc¬ 
trine  of  orthodox  Jews  in  the  period  following  that  covered  by  the 
canonical  books.  In  the  New  Testament,  immortality,  and  with 
it  the  resurrection,  stands  in  the  foreground.  Through  the  death 
and  resurrection  of  Jesus  there  comes  a  new  illumination,  a  signal 
disclosure  of  God’s  purpose  of  grace  and  of  the  blessed  import  of 
eternal  life  ;  so  that  death  is  said  to  be  “  abolished,”  and  life  and 
incorruption  “brought  to  light  ”  (2  Tim.  i.  10). 

Other  illustrations,  within  the  sphere  of  religion  as  distinguished 
from  ethics,  of  the  gradual  progress  of  Revelation,  will  occur  to 
every  student  of  the  Bible.  One  of  these  we  may  find  in  the  devel¬ 
opment  of  the  idea  of  sacrifice.  Among  ancient  peoples  generally, 
the  approach  to  a  superior —  a  human  lord  —  was  by  supplications 
and  gifts.  In  the  same  way  it  was  natural  to  approach  the  divinity, 
and  come  into  immediate  intercourse  with  him.  As  far  as  a  special 
character  belonged  to  Hebrew  sacrifices,  it  was  owing  to  the 
higher  conceptions  of  God  which  pertained  to  the  religion  of 
Israel,  and  to  the  express  ordinances  and  regulations  under  which 
all  religious  observances  were  placed.  But  the  Old  Testament 
sacrifices  were  gifts  to  God,  varying  in  their  specific  import  by 


360  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


the  particular  feelings  to  be  expressed  and  the  particular  benefits 
to  be  sought.  A  surrender  was  made  of  something  precious,  sig¬ 
nifying  self-devotion  to  Jehovah  on  the  part  of  him  who  brought 
the  offering.  When  there  was  a  rupture  of  relations  by  reason  of 
sin,  the  sacrifice  took  on  a  modified  significance,  and  peculiar  expe¬ 
riences  of  feeling  were  evoked  in  connection  with  it.  In  the  age 
of  the  prophets,  the  spiritual  elements  of  religion  are  brought  into 
the  foreground,  and  in  comparison  with  them,  and  in  case  they 
are  absent,  the  worthlessness  of  all  ceremonial  practices  is  loudly 
proclaimed.  This  elevated  view  comes  out  in  the  fifty-first  Psalm, 
where  God  is  said  not  to  delight  in  sacrifice,  but  to  crave  as  an 
offering  “  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart.”  The  sacrifices  of  the 
ritual  system  might  avail  to  take  away  the  pain  of  self-reproach  for 
a  time,  and  with  reference  to  particular  transgressions.  But  the 
insufficiency  of  offerings  of  this  nature  became  increasingly  evident. 
At  last  the  essential  idea  of  sacrifice  was  realized  and  exhibited  by 
him  who  could  say  of  himself,  “  Lo,  I  am  come  to  do  thy  will  ” 
(Heb.  x.  9).  Here  was  no  outward  gift,  but  himself  —  his  own 
life — that  was  brought,  in  a  willing  surrender,  to  the  Father. 
Here  was  the  climax  of  self-denial,  or  devotion  to  the  Father’s 
will  and  appointment.  “  He  loved  us  and  gave  himself  up 
for  us”  (Eph.  v.  2).  The  self-surrender  of  the  Christian,  even 
of  his  body,  to  God,  the  dedication  of  himself  to  God,  is  styled 
by  the  apostle  Paul  our  “ reasonable,”  or  spiritual,  “service,”  in 
contrast  with  the  external  and  visible  sacrifices  of  the  old  ritual 
(Rom.  xii.  1). 

Another  illustration  still  is  presented  in  the  Messianic  idea,  as 
that  idea  is  gradually  unfolded  and  by  degrees  transfigured  in  the 
Old  Testament,  and  carried  to  perfection  in  the  New.  Messianic 
prophecy  passes  forward  from  its  immature,  germinant  state  in  the 
earlier  times,  until  it  appears  in  the  lofty  and  spiritual  forms  in 
which  it  blossoms  out  in  later  ages.  The  Old  Testament  commu¬ 
nity  was  itself  prophetic.  Everything  in  it  pointed  to  the  future. 
The  very  fact  that  God  had  entered  into  a  direct  relation  to  this 
one  people  carried  in  it  the  promise  of  victory  and  universality. 
But  what  should  be  the  characteristic  features  of  the  coming  day,  — 
this  was  a  matter  on  which  light  must  be  shed  gradually.  Only  as 
the  community  grew  and  advanced  could  it  be  taught  to  compre¬ 
hend  itself  and  forecast  the  future.  A  progress  or  growth  of 
prophecy  was  therefore  a  necessary  incident.  Even  inspired  men 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION  36 1 

could  never  be  transported  to  a  distant  age.  There  were  always 
limits  in  the  prophetic  anticipation,  colors  in  the  picture  caught 
from  the  scenery  and  atmosphere  in  the  midst  of  which  the  prophet 
lived  and  wrote.  In  the  blessing  recorded  of  Jacob,  in  his  saying 
that  the  sceptre  should  not  depart  from  Judah ;  in  those  exultant 
prophecies  of  the  dominion  that  would  be  gained  by  the  kingdom 
of  David  and  his  successors,  which  we  meet  with  in  the  Psalms ; 
in  the  foresight,  granted  to  the  great  prophets  of  Israel,  of  an  ap¬ 
proaching  era  of  universal  righteousness  and  peace  ;  in  the  portrait, 
in  the  fifty-third  chapter  of  Isaiah,  of  the  suffering  servant  of  Jeho¬ 
vah,  —  we  find  different  phases  of  Messianic  prediction.  In  that 
chapter  of  the  “  evangelical  prophet  ”  the  anticipation  comes 
nearest  to  the  ideal  in  certain  essential  features.  But  for  the  ideal 
purified  from  all  imperfections  of  time  and  place  and  finite  appre¬ 
hension  we  must  look  to  the  character  of  the  Messiah  himself, 
and  to  the  work  actually  achieved  by  him. 

When  we  leave  theology  for  the  domain  of  ethics,  the  progres¬ 
sive  character  of  Revelation  is  capable  of  abundant  illustration. 
The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  has  for  its  theme  that  fulfilment  of 
law,  that  unfolding  of  its  inner  aim  and  essence,  which  Christ 
declared  to  be  one  end  of  his  mission.  Morality  is  followed  down 
to  its  roots  in  the  inmost  dispositions  of  the  heart.  The  precepts 
of  Jesus  are  a  protest  against  the  Pharisaical  glosses  which  tradi¬ 
tion  had  attached  to  Old  Testament  injunctions.  It  is  “  the  right¬ 
eousness  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  ”  which  is  pointedly 
condemned.  It  is  still  a  controverted  question,  however,  whether 
the  reference  to  what  had  been  said  by  or  to  “  them  of  old  time  ” 
was  intended  to  include  Old  Testament  legislation  itself,  as  well 
as  the  perverse,  arbitrary  interpretations  which  had  been  attached 
to  it  by  its  theological  expounders.  Plainly  the  injunction  of 
Jesus  to  love  the  enemy  as  well  as  the  neighbor  goes  beyond  the 
directions  in  Leviticus  (xix.  17,  18)  :  “Thou  shalt  not  hate  thy 
brother  in  thine  heart.  .  .  .  Thou  shalt  not  take  vengeance,  nor 
bear  any  grudge  against  the  children  of  thy  people,  but  thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.”  Here  nothing  is  said  of  any  except 
the  “  neighbor.”  The  prohibition  is  limited  to  the  treatment  of 
national  kinsmen.  That  the  general  obligation  to  the  exercise  of 
good-will  toward  wrong-doers  and  foes,  wherever  they  may  be, 
and  to  the  cultivation  of  a  forgiving  temper  toward  all  men,  finds 
in  the  Gospel  an  unprecedented  expansion  and  emphasis,  is  evi- 


362  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


dent  to  all  readers  of  the  New  Testament.  A  supplication  for  the 
pardon  of  enemies  forms  a  part  of  the  Lord’s  Prayer.  The  hope 
of  personal  forgiveness  is  denied  to  those  who  are  themselves  un¬ 
forgiving.  The  example  of  Jesus,  and  the  pardon  offered  to  the 
most  unworthy  through  him,  are  a  new  and  potent  incentive  to  the 
exercise  of  a  forgiving  temper. 

1A  glance  at  the  ideals  of  ethical  worth  in  the  early  ages  of  Israel 
is  enough  to  show  how  sharply  they  contrast  with  the  laws  of 
Christ  and  the  type  of  character  required  and  exemplified  in  the 
New  Testament.  It  was  once  said  by  an  eminent  divine  that  the 
patriarchs,  were  they  living  now,  would  be  in  the  penitentiary. 
Polygamy  and  other  practices,  the  rightfulness  of  which  nobody 
then  disputed,  the  wrongfulness  of  which  nobody  then  discerned, 
are  related  of  them,  and  related  without  any  expression  of  disap¬ 
proval.  Whoever  has  not  learned  that  practical  morality,  the 
ramifications  of  a  righteous  principle  in  conduct,  is  a  gradual 
growth,  and  that  even  now,  after  the  generic  principles  of  duty 
have  been  set  forth  in  the  Gospel,  and  a  luminous  example  of  the 
spirit  in  which  one  should  live  has  been  afforded  in  the  life  of 
Jesus,  the  perception  of  the  demands  of  morality  advances  from 
stage  to  stage  of  progress,  is  incompetent  to  take  the  seat  of 
judgment  upon  men  of  remote  ages.  A  while  ago  a  letter  of  Wash¬ 
ington  was  published,  in  which  directions  are  given  for  the  trans¬ 
portation  to  the  West  Indies  and  sale  there  of  a  refractory  negro 
who  had  given  him  trouble.  The  act  was  not  at  variance  with  the 
best  morality  of  the  time.  The  letter  is  one  that  deserves  to  cast 
no  shade  on  the  spotless  reputation  of  its  author.  Yet  a  like  act, 
if  done  to-day,  would  excite  almost  universal  reprobation.  To 
revile  the  worthies  of  Old  Testament  times  as  if  they  lacked  the 
vital  principle  of  unselfish  loyalty  to  God  and  to  right,  as  they  un¬ 
derstood  it,  is  not  less  irrational  than  to  deride  the  habitations 
which  they  constructed,  or  the  farming-tools  which  they  used  to 
till  the  ground.  It  is  not  the  less  imperatively  required  of  us, 
however,  to  recognize  the  wide  interval  that  separates  the  ancient 
conceptions  of  morality  from  those  of  the  Gospel.  Jael,  the  wife 
of  Heber  the  Kenite,  entered  heart  and  soul  into  the  cause  of 
Israel  in  the  mortal  struggle  with  the  Canaanites.  In  lending  aid 
to  the  cause  which  she  espoused  she  did  an  act  of  atrocious  cru¬ 
elty  and  treachery.  She  enticed  Sisera  into  her  tent,  and  when  he 
was  sleeping,  drove  a  tent-pin  through  his  head.  Yet  for  her  deed 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


363 


she  is  lauded  in  the  song  of  Deborah  the  prophetess  (Judges  v.), 
“  Blessed  above  women  shall  Jael  be,  the  wife  of  Heber  the 
Kenite  !  ”  Almost  the  same  words  were  addressed  to  the  Virgin 
Mary  (Luke  i.  42),  “  Blessed  art  thou  among  women  !  ”  What  an 
infinite  contrast  between  the  two  women  to  whom  this  lofty  dis¬ 
tinction  is  awarded  !  Nothing  is  better  fitted  to  force  on  us  the 
perception  of  the  gradualness  and  the  continuity  of  the  unfolding 
of  morality  in  the  scriptures. 

We  meet  in  the  Psalms  with  imprecations  which  are  not  conso¬ 
nant  with  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel ;  they  belong  on  a  lower  plane 
of  ethical  feeling.  It  is  one  thing  to  experience  a  satisfaction  in 
the  just  punishment  of  crime.  It  is  accordant  with  Christianity 
to  regard  with  conscientious  abhorrence  iniquity,  whether  we  our¬ 
selves  or  other  men  are  the  sufferers  by  it.  Indifference  to  base 
conduct,  be  the  root  of  this  state  of  mind  a  dulness  of  the  moral 
sense  or  false  sentiment,  is,  to  say  the  least,  not  less  repulsive,  and 
may  be  more  demoralizing,  than  the  fires  of  resentment  which 
nothing  but  fierce  retaliation  can  quench.  But  the  spirit  of  re¬ 
venge  is  unchristian.  Christianity  teaches  us  to  distinguish  be¬ 
tween  the  offence  and  the  offender  :  the  one  we  are  to  hate ;  the 
other  we  are  forbidden  to  hate.  Moreover,  Christianity  never 
loses  sight  of  the  possibility  of  reformation  in  the  case  of  wrong¬ 
doers.  The  Christian  considers  what  an  individual  might  be,  not 
merely  what  he  now  is.  The  benevolent  feeling,  therefore,  is  not 
allowed  to  be  paralyzed  by  the  moral  hatred  which  evil  conduct 
naturally  and  properly  evokes.  As  regards  personal  resentment, 
the  Christian  disciple  is  cautioned  never  to  forget  his  own  ill-desert 
and  need  of  pardon  from  God,  and  the  great  boon  of  forgiveness, 
in  the  reception  of  which  the  Christian  life  begins.  These  quali¬ 
fications  and  correctives  of  passion  were  comparatively  wanting  in 
the  earlier  dispensation. 

Many  expressions  of  wrath  in  the  Old  Testament  are  directed 
against  the  enemies  of  God  and  of  his  kingdom,  by  whom  Israel 
was  attacked  or  threatened.  They  are  outbursts  of  a  righteous 
indignation,  and  as  such  merit  respect,  even  though  an  alloy  of 
personal  vindictiveness  may  unhappily  mingle  in  them.  It  was  no 
fault  to  be  incensed  against  impious  and  cruel  assailants  of  all  that 
was  precious  to  a  patriot  and  to  a  reverent  worshipper  of  Jehovah. 
It  is  impossible,  however,  to  refer  all  the  imprecations  in  the 
Psalms  to  a  feeling  of  the  authors  in  relation  to  such  enemies  of 


364  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


God  and  of  his  kingdom.  No  devices  of  interpretation  can  har¬ 
monize  with  the  precepts  of  Christ  such  expressions  as  are  found 
in  the  109th  Psalm  :  “Let  his  children  be  fatherless,  and  his  wife 
a  widow.  Let  his  children  be  vagabonds,  and  beg.  .  .  .  Let  the 
extortioner  catch  all  that  he  hath.  .  .  .  Let  there  be  none  to 
extend  mercy  unto  him  :  neither  let  there  be  any  to  have  pity  on 
his  fatherless  children.”  The  wrath  of  the  author  of  this  lyric 
against  the  cruel  and  insolent  one  who  “  persecuted  the  poor  and 
needy  man,  and  the  broken  in  heart,  to  slay  them,”  it  is  fair  to 
assume  was  merited.  The  sense  of  justice  and  the  holy  anger  at 
the  root  of  these  anathemas  are  in  themselves  right.  They  are 
the  result  of  a  divine  education.  But  they  take  the  form  of  re¬ 
venge, —  a  kind  of  wild  justice,  as  Lord  Bacon  calls  it.  The 
identification  of  the  family  with  its  head  is  one  of  “  the  ruling 
ideas  ”  of  antiquity.  It  appears  often  in  the  methods  of  retribu¬ 
tion  which  were  in  vogue  in  the  Old  Testament  ages.  It  gave 
way  partly  and  by  degrees,  under  that  progressive  enlightenment 
from  above  through  which  individual  responsibility  became  more 
distinctly  felt  and  acknowledged,  both  in  judicial  proceedings  and 
in  private  life.  The  distinctive  spirit  of  the  Gospel  is  shown  in 
the  rebuke  of  Jesus  when  the  disciples  proposed  to  call  down  fire 
from  heaven  to  destroy  the  inimical  Samaritans  (Luke  ix.  55).  It 
is  most  impressively  seen  in  his  prayer  on  the  cross,  “Father,  for¬ 
give  them ;  for  they  know  not  what  they  do  ”  (Luke  xxiii.  34). 

It  is  the  characteristic  of  Old  Testament  laws  and  precepts 
that  in  them  bounds  are  set  to  evils,  the  attempt  immediately  to 
extirpate  which  would  have  proved  abortive.  Something  more 
than  this  must  be  said.  There  was  lacking  a  full  perception  of 
the  moral  ideal.  In  the  Old  Testament  expositions  of  duty,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  there  is  an  approach  toward  that  radical  treat¬ 
ment  of  moral  evils  which  signalizes  the  Christian  system.  An 
additional  example  of  this  feature  of  the  preparatory  stage  of  reve¬ 
lation  may  be  found  in  the  last  chapter  of  the  book  of  Proverbs. 
There  “  Lemuel,”  the  name  of  a  king,  or  a  name  applied  to  one 
of  the  kings,  is  apostrophized.  He  is  exhorted  to  practise  chastity 
and  temperance.  “  It  is  not  for  kings,  O  Lemuel,  it  is  not  for 
kings  to  drink  wine  ;  nor  for  princes  strong  drink  :  lest  they  drink, 
and  forget  the  law,  and  pervert  the  judgment  of  any  of  the 
afflicted.”  What  better  counsel  could  be  given  ?  The  judge  on 
the  bench  must  have  a  clear  head.  But  the  counsellor,  in  order 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


365 


to  strengthen  his  admonition,  proceeds  to  say,  “  Give  strong 
drink  unto  him  that  is  ready  to  perish.”  So  far,  also,  there  is  no 
exception  to  be  taken  to  the  wisdom  of  his  precept.  The  Jews 
had  a  custom,  resting  on  a  humane  motive,  to  administer  a  sus¬ 
taining  stimulant  or  a  narcotic  to  those  undergoing  punishment,  in 
order  to  alleviate  their  pains.  Something  of  this  kind  was  offered 
to  Jesus  on  the  cross.  But  the  counsellor  does  not  stop  at  this 
point.  He  says  :  “  Give  strong  drink  unto  him  that  is  ready  to 
perish,  and  wine  unto  those  that  be  of  heavy  hearts.  Let  him 
drink,  and  forget  his  poverty,  and  remember  his  misery  no  more.” 
There  need  be  no  hesitancy  in  saying  that  this  last  exhortation  is 
about  the  worst  advice  that  could  possibly  be  given  to  a  person  in 
affliction,  or  dispirited  by  the  loss  of  property.  The  thing  to  tell 
him,  especially  if  he  has  an  appetite  for  strong  drink,  is  to  avoid  it 
as  he  would  shun  poison.  Yet  our  remark  amounts  to  nothing 
more  than  this,  that  the  sacred  author  sets  up  a  barrier  against 
only  a  part  of  the  mischief  which  is  wrought  by  intemperance. 
His  vision  went  thus  far,  but  no  farther.  It  is  a  case  where,  to 
quote  a  homely  modern  proverb,  “  blalf  a  loaf  is  better  than  no 
bread.”  It  would  be  a  great  gain  for  morality  and  for  the  well¬ 
being  of  society  if  magistrates  could  be  made  abstinent. 

On  this  general  subject  there  is  no  more  explicit  criticism  of 
Old  Testament  law  than  is  contained  in  the  words  of  Jesus  re¬ 
specting  divorce.  The  law  of  Moses  permitted  a  husband  to 
discard  his  wife,  but  curtailed  his  privilege  by  requiring  him  to 
furnish  her  with  a  written  statement  which  might  serve  as  a  means 
of  protection  for  her.  This  statute,  as  far  as  the  allowance  to  the 
man  which  was  included  in  it  is  concerned,  is  declared  by  Christ 
to  have  been  framed  on  account  of  “  the  hardness  of  heart  ”  of 
the  people.  It  fell  below  the  requirement  of  immutable  morality. 
It  was  a  partial  toleration  of  an  abuse  which  it  was  then  imprac¬ 
ticable  to  seek  to  cut  off  altogether.  But  Christianity  lifted  the 
whole  subject  to  a  higher  level.  It  presented  a  profounder  view 
of  the  marriage  relation.  It  superseded  and  annulled  the  Mosaic 
enactment. 

The  advance  of  the  New  Testament  revelation  in  its  relation 
to  the  Old  has  become,  in  these  days,  obvious.  But  the  New 
Testament  revelation,  in  itself  considered,  was  not  made  in  an 
instant  as  by  a  lightning  flash.  It  did  not  come  into  being  in  all 
its  fulness  in  a  moment,  as  the  fabled  Minerva  sprang  from  the 


366  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


head  of  Jove.  As  in  the  case  of  the  earlier  revelation,  the  note 
of  gradualness  is  attached  to  it.  The  fundamental  fact  of  Chris¬ 
tianity  is  the  uniting  of  God  to  man  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Peter’s  confession  respecting  his  person  is  the  rock  on  which  the 
Church  was  founded.  The  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  opens  with 
the  following  striking  passage  (as  given  in  the  Revised  Version)  : 
“  God,  having  of  old  time  spoken  unto  the  fathers  in  the  prophets 
by  divers  portions  and  in  divers  manners,  hath  at  the  end  of  these 
days  spoken  unto  us  in  his  Son.”  The  former  revelations  were 
made  through  various  channels,  and  were  besides  of  a  fragmentary 
character.  They  paved  the  way  for  the  final  revelation  through  the 
Son,  whom  the  writer  proceeds  to  liken,  in  his  relation  to  God,  to  the 
effulgence  of  a  luminous  body.  But  modern  exegesis  and  modern 
theological  thought,  while  leaving  untouched  the  divinity  of  Jesus, 
have  brought  into  clear  light  that  progressive  development  of  the 
Saviour’s  person  from  the  incarnation  at  the  starting-point.  Not 
until  his  earthly  career  terminated  and  he  was  “  glorified  ”  was 
the  union  of  God  and  man  in  his  person,  in  its  effects,  consum¬ 
mated.  More  was  involved  in  his  being  in  the  “form  of  a  ser¬ 
vant  ”  than  theology  in  former  days  conceived.  Nothing  is  more 
clear  from  his  own  language  respecting  himself,  as  well  as  from 
what  the  apostles  say  of  him,  than  that  there  were  limitations  of 
his  knowledge.  On  a  certain  day  Jesus  started  from  Bethany 
for  Jerusalem.  He  was  hungry.  Seeing  at  a  distance  a  fig-tree 
with  leaves  upon  it,  he  went  toward  it,  expecting  to  find  fruit,  — 
it  being  a  tree  of  that  kind  which  produces  its  fruit  before  putting 
out  the  leaves.  But  when  he  came  to  it  his  expectation  was 
deceived ;  “  he  found  nothing  but  leaves.”  Jesus  said  that  he 
did  not  know  when  the  day  of  judgment  would  come.  Apart 
from  conclusive  testimonies  of  this  character,  it  is  evident  from 
the  whole  tenor  of  the  Gospel  histories  that  he  was  not  conscious 
of  the  power  to  exercise  divine  attributes  in  their  fulness  of  activity. 
The  opposite  idea  gives  a  mechanical  character  to  his  actions  and 
to  most  of  his  teachings.  How,  if  he  was  all  the  while  in  the  ex¬ 
ercise  of  omniscience,  could  he  “  marvel  ”  at  the  unbelief  of  certain 
of  his  hearers  ?  That  when  he  was  a  speechless  babe  in  his  mother’s 
arms  he  was  consciously  possessed  of  infinite  knowledge,  is  an 
impossible  conception.  And  the  difficulties  of  such  a  conception 
are  only  lessened  in  degree  at  any  other  subsequent  day  while  he 
was  “in  the  flesh.”  When  we  behold  him  at  the  last,  prior  to 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


367 


the  crucifixion,  we  find  his  soul  poured  out  in  the  agonizing  sup¬ 
plication,  “  If  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me.”  The 
supposition  of  a  dual  personality  in  Christ  is  not  less  contrary  to 
the  scriptures  and  to  the  creed  of  the  Church  than  it  is  offensive 
to  common  sense  and  to  philosophy.  Yet  he  was  conscious  of 
a  unity  with  God  altogether  exceptional,  and  the  unfolding  within 
him  of  this  unassailable  conviction  kept  pace  with  the  develop¬ 
ment  of  his  human  consciousness.  The  dawning  sense  of  the 
unique  relation  in  which  he  stood  to  God  comes  out  in  his  boy¬ 
hood,  in  the  words  addressed  to  his  mother  when  he  was  found 
with  the  doctors  in  the  temple,  “  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  in 
my  Father’s  house?”  And  the  limitations  of  Jesus  must  not  be 
exaggerated  or  made  the  premise  of  unwarranted  inferences.  He 
knew  the  boundaries  of  his  province  as  a  teacher,  and  never  over¬ 
stepped  them.  Just  as  he  refused  to  be  an  arbiter  in  a  contest 
about  an  inheritance,  saying,  “  Who  made  me  a  judge  or  a  divider 
over  you?”  so  did  he  abstain  from  authoritative  utterances  on 
matters  falling  distinctly  within  the  sphere  of  human  science. 
No  honor  is  done  to  him,  and  no  help  afforded  to  the  cause  of 
Christianity,  in  attributing  to  him  scholastic  information  which  he 
did  not  claim  for  himself  and  which  there  is  no  evidence  that 
he  possessed.  It  is  not  less  important,  however,  to  observe  that, 
notwithstanding  the  limits  that  were  set  about  him  by  the  fact  of 
his  real  humanity,  and  as  long  as  he  dwelt  among  men,  there  was 
yet  an  inlet  into  his  consciousness  from  the  fountain  of  all  truth. 
“No  one  knoweth  the  Son,  save  the  Father;  neither  doth  any 
know  the  Father,  save  the  Son,  and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son 
willeth  to  reveal  him”  (Matt.  xi.  27).  His  knowledge  differed 
in  its  source,  in  its  kind  and  degree,  from  that  of  all  other  sons 
of  men.  “The  words  that  I  say  unto  you  I  speak  not  from 
myself:  but  the  Father  abiding  in  me  doeth  his  works.”  The 
divine  in  him  was  not  a  temporary  visitation,  as  when  the  Spirit 
dwelt  for  a  brief  time  —  sojourned,  one  may  be  permitted  to  say 
—  in  the  soul  of  a  prophet  like  Isaiah.  Even  then  God  spoke 
through  the  prophet,  and  the  mind  of  the  prophet  might  for  the 
moment  became  so  fully  the  organ  of  God  that  he  spoke  through 
the  prophet’s  lips  in  the  first  person.  But  in  Christ  there  was 
an  “  abiding  ”  of  the  Father.  The  union  was  such  that  the  whole 
mental  and  moral  life  of  Jesus  was  an  expression  of  God’s  mind 
and  will.  “  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father.”  As 


368  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

conscience  in  me  is  the  voice  of  another,  yet  is  not  distinct  from 
my  own  being,  so  of  Christ  is  it  true  that  the  Father  was  in  him, 
—  another,  yet  not  another.  And  this  union,  although  real  from 
the  beginning,  culminated  in  its  effects  not  until  a  complete 
ethical  oneness  was  attained,  at  the  end  of  all  temptation  and 
suffering, —  the  oneness  which  found  utterance  in  the  words, 
“  Howbeit  not  what  I  will,  but  what  thou  wilt.”  This  was  the 
transition-point  to  the  perfect  development  of  his  being,  which 
is  styled  his  “  glorification.’'  As  the  risen  and  ascended  Christ, 
he  can  be  touched  with  sympathy  with  the  human  infirmities  of 
which  he  has  had  experience,  at  the  same  time  that  he  can  be 
present  with  his  disciples  wherever  they  are,  —  can  be  in  the 
midst  of  the  smallest  group  of  them  who  are  met  for  worship. 

From  Jesus  himself  we  have  a  distinct  assurance  that  the  reve¬ 
lation  which  he  was  to  make  was  not  to  end  with  his  oral  teach¬ 
ing.  Near  the  end  of  his  life  he  said  to  the  disciples,  “I  have 
yet  many  things  to  say  unto  you,  but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now.” 
They  were  not  ripe  for  the  comprehension  of  important  truth, 
which  therefore  he  held  in  reserve.  The  Holy  Spirit  was  to  open 
their  eyes  to  the  perception  of  things  which  they  were  not  yet 
qualified  to  appreciate.  The  communication  of  the  Spirit  ushered 
in  a  new  epoch.  Then  the  apostles  took  a  wider  and  deeper  view 
of  the  purport  of  the  Gospel.  We  find  in  the  Epistles  an  unfold¬ 
ing  of  doctrine  which  we  discover  in  the  germ  in  the  conversa¬ 
tions  and  discourses  of  Jesus.  It  was  impossible,  for  example,  that 
the  design  of  his  death  could  be  adequately  discerned  prior  to  the 
event  itself,  and  as  long  as  the  disciples  could  not  be  reconciled 
even  to  the  expectation  of  it.  In  isolated  sayings  of  Jesus,  in  par¬ 
ticular  in  what  he  said  at  the  institution  of  the  Lord’s  Supper,  the 
import  of  it  is  taught.  The  giving  of  his  life,  he  said  figuratively 
on  another  occasion,  was  to  avail  in  some  way,  as  a  ransom.  But 
it  was  not  until  the  cross  had  been  raised  that  the  doctrine  of  the 
cross  was  made  an  essential  part  of  Christian  teaching,  and  the 
great  sacrifice  became  a  theme  of  doctrinal  exposition.  By  this 
subsequent  teaching  a  void  which  had  been  left  in  the  instructions 
of  the  Master  was  filled.  In  his  teaching  there  were  two  elements, 
standing,  so  to  speak,  apart  from  each  other.  On  the  one  hand, 
he  set  forth  the  inexorable  demands  of  righteous  law.  In  this 
respect  no  portion  of  the  older  scriptures,  in  which  law  was  so 
prominent  a  theme,  is  equally  adapted  to  strike  the  conscience 


THE  GRADUALNESS  OF  REVELATION 


369 


with  dismay.  On  the  other  hand,  there  was  in  the  teaching  of 
Jesus  the  most  emphatic  proclamation  of  God’s  compassion  and 
forgiving  love.  These  two  sides  of  the  Saviour’s  teaching  are 
connected  and  harmonized  in  the  apostolic  exposition  of  the 
atonement. 

The  apostles  themselves,  individually,  as  regards  their  percep¬ 
tions  of  truth,  their  insight  into  the  meaning  of  the  Gospel  and  its 
bearings  on  human  duty  and  destiny,  did  not  remain  stationary. 
How  they  attained  to  a  more  catholic  view  of  the  relation  of  the 
Gentiles  to  the  Gospel  and  to  the  Church,  the  New  Testament 
scriptures  explain.  Apart  from  this  subject,  where  their  progres¬ 
sive  enlightenment  is  so  conspicuous  a  fact,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  from  day  to  day  they  grew  in  knowledge.  When  the  earliest 
writings  of  Paul,  the  Epistles  to  the  Thessalonians,  are  compared 
with  two  of  his  latest  writings,  —  the  Epistles  to  the  Colossians 
and  Ephesians,  —  we  not  only  find  perceptible  modifications  of 
tone,  but  in  the  later  compositions  we  find  also  views  on  the  scope 
of  the  Gospel  —  what  may  be  termed  the  universal,  or  cosmical, 
relations  of  the  work  of  redemption  —  such  as  do  not  appear  in 
his  first  productions.  As  a  minor  peculiarity,  it  may  be  mentioned 
that  when  he  wrote  to  the  Thessalonians  he  seems  to  have  ex¬ 
pected  to  be  alive  when  the  Lord  should  come  in  his  Second 
Advent ;  while  in  his  latest  Epistles  this  hope  or  expectation  has 
passed  out  of  his  mind.  As  the  Gospel  and  the  First  Epistle  of 
John  are  the  latest  of  the  apostolic  writings,  it  is  permissible  to 
regard  them  as  the  fullest  and  ripest  statement  of  the  theologic 
import  of  the  Gospel. 

The  ordinary  Protestant  doctrine  respecting  the  seat  of  author¬ 
ity  requires,  in  order  to  have  a  tenable  basis,  that  the  gradualness 
of  revelation  be  taken  into  account.  The  authority  of  the  Bible 
must  be  understood  as  applicable  within  the  sphere  of  moral  and 
religious  teaching.  The  biblical  writers,  with  this  very  important 
qualification,  entertained  the  views  current  in  their  times  on  the 
matters  now  included  in  the  function  of  natural  and  physical 
science.  The  historical  writers  were  not  addicted  to  antiquarian 
researches.  Their  predominant  motive  as  authors  was  moral  and 
religious.  It  was  a  great  mistake  formerly  to  predicate  of  them 
the  absolute  accuracy  in  narrative  which  is  prized  and,  in  a  meas¬ 
ure,  exacted,  in  modern  savans.  The  root  of  the  Protestant  prin- 


370  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


ciple  on  the  seat  of  authority  is  faith  in  the  supreme  authority 
of  Jesus  Christ  as  a  moral  and  religious  teacher.  Such  authority 
over  faith  and  conduct,  if  ascribed  to  the  Bible,  must  be  attributed 
to  the  Bible  as  a  whole,  and  not,  in  the  strict  sense,  to  its  parts 
individually  considered.  This  is  clear  enough  from  the  way  in 
which  Jesus  himself  spoke  of  Old  Testament  precepts  and  other 
teachings,  and  from  a  similar  course  on  the  part  of  the  apostles. 
The  truth  to  which  attention  is  now  called  is  this  :  the  amendment 
in  which  we  are  justified  by  the  Protestant  maxims,  so  far  as  bibli¬ 
cal  writings  belonging  to  earlier  stages  of  revelation  are  concerned, 
is  authorized  by  Christ  in  the  New  Testament.  For  example,  when 
we  take  exception  to  precepts  uttered  or  approved  by  prophets  con¬ 
cerning  the  way  of  regarding  and  treating  enemies,  we  follow  the 
dictates  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  We  are  still  within  the  circle 
of  biblical  instruction  or  command,  or  of  the  one  example  recog¬ 
nized  as  perfect.  In  short,  it  is  the  Bible  as  a  whole,  and  con¬ 
sidered  as  a  self-interpreting  —  we  might  say,  self-amending  — 
authority,  that  we  are  either  bound  to  obey,  or  are  safe  in  follow¬ 
ing.1  History  is  an  instructive  witness  to  the  mischief  that  has 
been  wrought  from  an  oversight  of  this  principle ;  for  example, 
from  regarding  the  Mosaic  system  as  the  model  of  a  Christian 
commonwealth. 


1  This  truth  is  well  stated  by  Rothe,  in  his  Zur  Dogmatik. 


CHAPTER  XV 


THE  RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  OTHER  RELIGIONS 

Christianity  is  one  of  many  religions  which  exist  or  have  existed 
in  the  world.  They  may  be  divided  into  three  classes,  —  the  reli¬ 
gions  of  barbarian  tribes,  past  and  present ;  the  national  religions, 
which  have  sprung  up  within  a  single  nation  or  race,  and  have  not 
striven  for  a  farther  extension ;  and  the  universal  religions,  which, 
not  content  to  stay  within  national  boundaries,  have  aspired  to  a 
general  or  universal  sway.  To  this  last  class,  Buddhism  and  Chris- 
ctiamty  unquestionably  belong.  The  religion  of  the  Israelites,  before 
it  assumed  the  Christian  form,  had  spread  extensively  among  men 
of  foreign  birth ;  and  its  adherents  were  zealous  in  making  prose¬ 
lytes.  Yet  converts  were  partly  or  fully  transformed  into  Jews, 
and  incorporated  with  the  race  of  Israel.  Mohammedanism  was 
at  first  the  religion  of  one  people,  and  at  the  outset  it  may  not 
have  been  the  design  of  its  founder  to  extend  it  beyond  the 
national  limits.  But  the  design  was  widened  :  it  became  a  con¬ 
quering  faith,  and  has,  in  fact,  included  within  its  pale  numerous 
votaries  of  different  nations  ana  tongues. 

The  study  of  pagan  and  ethnic  religions  has  been  carried  for¬ 
ward,  in  later  times,  in  a  more  sympathetic  spirit.  Elements  of 
truth  and  beauty  have  been  carefully  sought  out  in  the  beliefs  and 
worship  of  heathen  nations.  Religious  ideas  and  moral  precepts 
which  deserve  respect  have  been  pointed  out  in  the  ethnic  creeds. 
The  aspirations  at  the  root  of  the  religions  outside  of  the  pale  of 
Christianity,  the  struggle  of  the  soul  to  connect  itself  with  the 
supernatural,  and  to  realize  ideals  of  an  excellence  above  any 
present  attainment,  have  been  justly  appreciated.  This  aspect  of 
heathenism,  it  should  be  observed,  however,  is  recognized  in  the 
New  Testament.  The  apostle  Paul  builds  his  discourse  at  Athens 
on  the  acknowledged  ignorance  of  the  Divinity,  for  whom  there 
was,  nevertheless,  a  search  and  a  virtually  confessed  yearning.  He 
cites  the  teaching  of  certain  heathen  poets  as  consonant  with  the 
truth  on  the  great  point  of  man’s  filial  relation  to  the  Deity.  The 

37i 


372  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


Christian  Fathers  traced  wise  and  holy  sayings  of  heathen  sages  to 
rays  of  light  from  the  Logos,  —  the  Divine  Word,  —  or  to  an  illu¬ 
mination  from  the  Spirit  of  God.  Devout  missionaries,  in  recent 
days,  have  been  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  individuals,  of 
whom  Confucius  was  one,  have  been  providentially  raised  up  to 
be  the  guides  of  their  people,  to  instil  into  them  higher  truth,  and 
to  prepare  them  for  better  things.  Points  of  affinity  and  of 
accordance  between  the  Bible  and  the  sacred  scriptures  of  peoples 
ignorant  of  Christianity  have  not  been  overlooked  by  Christian 
scholars.  Even  the  fables  of  mythology  may  betray  glimpses  of 
truth  not  capable  of  being  grasped  on  the  plane  of  nature.  They 
may  disclose  a  craving  which  Christianity  alone  avails  to  appease, 
and  may  thus  be  unconscious  prophecies  of  Him  who  is  the  desire 
of  all  nations.  Even  the  Avatars  of  Vishnu,  countless  in  number, 
indicate  that  through  man  the  full  revelation  of  God  is  looked  for. 
They  may  be  considered  a  presage,  in  a  crude  form,  of  the  his¬ 
toric  fact  of  the  Incarnation. 

Christianity  differs  from  the  other  religions  in  its  contents,  and 
in  the  verifiable  sanction  which  furnishes  the  ground  for  an  assured 
belief.  This  last  feature  is  of  itself  a  distinguishing  merit.  If 
much  that  is  taught  by  Christ  and  the  apostles  should  be  found 
here  and  there  in  the  literature  of  the  world,  the  supernatural 
sanction  which  changes  hope  into  assurance,  and  doubting  belief 
into  conviction,  would  be  of  itself  an  inestimable  advantage.  In 
this  place  it  is  the  contents  of  Christianity  which  we  have  to  con¬ 
sider  in  comparison  with  the  tenets  of  other  creeds. 

When  we  say  of  Christianity  that  it  is  the  absolute  religion,  it  is 
not  meant  that  we  have  in  it  a  full-orbed  discovery  of  divine  things. 
“  We  know  in  part  ”  (i  Cor.  xiii.  9).  It  is  meant  that  Christianity 
is  not  to  be  classified  with  other  religions  as  if  it  were  defective  in 
the  sense  of  containing  error,  or  as  if  it  stood  in  need  of  a  comple¬ 
ment  to  be  expected  or  required  on  the  present  stage  of  human 
life.  With  no  limit  to  its  increasing  capacity  to  illuminate  right 
action,  it  is  now  in  substance  and  in  its  principles  incapable  of 
amendment. 

It  is  well,  at  the  outset,  to  give  prominence  to  the  grand 
peculiarity  of  the  Christian  religion,  which  constitutes  the  central 
point  of  difference  between  it  and  the  ethnic  religions.  Revelation 
is  the  revelation  —  the  self-revelation  —  of  God.  The  doctrine  of 
God  is  the  sun  which  irradiates  the  whole  system,  and  keeps 


THE  RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  OTHER  RELIGIONS  373 


every  part  in  its  place.  There  may  be  excellent  moral  suggestions 
in  the  non-Christian  systems  and  cults.  There  may  be  partial, 
momentary  glimpses  of  the  Divine  Being  himself  in  certain  aspects 
of  his  character.  But  nowhere,  save  in  the  religion  of  the  Bible, 
and  in  systems  borrowed  from  it,  is  there  a  full  view  of  the  per-  , 
fections  of  God,  —  such  a  view  as  gives  to  moral  precepts  their 
"pfoper  setting  and  the  most  effectual  motive  to  their  observance. 
This  essential  characteristic  of  Christianity  the  apostle  Paul  held 
up  to  view  in  his  discourse  at  Athens.  There  was  worship  —  in 
its  way,  genuine  worship  —  among  the  heathen,  but  an  ignorance 
of  its  true  object.  It  was  so  far  an  agnosticism  as  to  leave  a  void 
in  the  soul  of  the  worshipper.  In  a  few  striking  sentences  the  apos¬ 
tle,  justifying  his  title  of  the  “Apostle  to  the  Gentiles,”  presented 
to  view  the  only  living  God,  a  Spirit,  the  Creator  and  Ruler  of  the 
universe,  in  whom  we  live,  and  to  whom  we  are  responsible.  The 
whole  conception  of  man,  of  his  duties  and  destiny,  and  of  the  goal 
to  which  all  things  tend,  is  colored  and  determined  by  the  primary 
ideas  relative  to  God.  What,  let  us  now  inquire,  have  other  re¬ 
ligions  to  say  of  him?  Heathen  religions  generally  fail  altogether 
to  disengage  God  from  nature.  Hence  polytheism  is  the  pre¬ 
vailing  fact.  Whether  the  various  religions  preserve  in  them 
traces  of  an  earlier  monotheism  is  a  disputed  point ;  scholars  are 
not  agreed  on  the  question ;  and  a  bias,  on  one  side  or  on  the 
other,  frequently  appears  in  the  recent  discussions  upon  it.  As 
the  existing  diversity  of  languages  is  entirely  consistent  with  the 
hypothesis  of  an  original  unity  of  speech,  although  the  phenomena 
do  not  positively  establish  this  doctrine,  so  it  may  be  possibly 
respecting  religion.  Vestiges  of  a  primitive  simple  theism  may 
have  utterly  disappeared,  yet  such  may  have  been  the  religion  of 
the  primitive  man.  Certain  it  is  that,  as  we  contemplate  the 
religions  which  history  and  ancient  literature  exhibit  to  us,  we 
find  them  at  a  distant  remove  from  a  pure  and  spiritual  appre¬ 
hension  of  the  Deity.  Where  there  was  a  supreme  God,  other 
divinities  divided  power  with  him ;  and  none  of  them  were  con¬ 
ceived  of  as  absolute,  as  independent  of  nature.  Tien,  or 
Shang-ti,  the  supreme  God  of  the  Chinese,  was  Heaven  conceived 
of  as  Lord  or  sovereign  Emperor.  Dr.  Legge,  the  learned  trans¬ 
lator  of  Confucius,  holds  that  “Tien”  signifies  the  Lord  of  the 
Heavens.  He  finds  in  the  conception  an  early  monotheism. 
This  was  not  the  understanding  of  the  Roman  Catholic  mission- 


374  THE  grounds  of  theistic  and  Christian  belief 

aries  in  the  last  century,  nor  is  it  the  interpretation  of  the  most 
competent  missionaries  at  present.  The  testimony  of  Chinese 
authors,  says  Dr.  Hopper,  “  is  uniform  and  the  same.  Every¬ 
where  it  is  the  visible  heaven  which  is  referred  to.”  “  They  refer 
to  an  intelligent  soul  animating  the  visible  heaven,  as  the  soul 
animates  the  body  of  a  man.”  The  religion  of  the  Bactrian 
prophet  Zoroaster  was  a  dualism.  An  eternal  principle  of  evil,  a 
god  of  darkness,  the  source  of  everything  baleful  and  hateful,  con¬ 
tends  against  the  rival  deity,  and  is  never  overcome.  Max  Muller 
has  designated  the  religion  of  the  Sanskrit-speaking  Indians,  the 
system  of  the  Vedas,  as  henotheism,  by  which  he  means  the  wor¬ 
ship  of  numerous  divinities,  each  of  which,  however,  in  the  act  of 
worship,  is  clothed  with  such  attributes  as  imply  that  the  other 
divinities  are  for  the  moment  forgotten,  and  which  might  logically 
abolish  them.  This  is  really  polytheism  with  a  peculiar  monistic 
drift.  But  Professor  W.  D.  Whitney,  than  whom  there  is  no  higher 
authority  on  the  subject,  dissents  from  this  theory,  and  attributes 
the  exalted  attributes  attached  to  the  particular  god  at  the  moment 
of  worship  mainly  to  a  natural  exaggeration.  Professor  Whitney 
declares  that  “  there  is  no  known  form  of  religious  faith  which 
presents  a  polytheism  more  pure  and  more  absolute  than  the  Vedic 
religion.”  1  Whether  monotheism  entered  into  the  ancient  religion 
of  Egypt  is  an  unsettled  debate.  It  is  maintained  by  Renouf  that 
the  Egyptian  monuments  and  literature  exhibit  a  mingling  of 
monotheism  and  polytheism ;  that  there  was  a  conception  of  one 
God  with  sublime  attributes  —  an  idea  connected,  however,  with 
the  notion  of  a  plurality  of  divinities  and  with  debased  super¬ 
stitions.  The  sublime  conception,  Renouf  contends,  was  the  most 
ancient.  Mr.  G.  Rawlinson  takes  the  same  position,  holding  that 
there  was  a  purer,  esoteric  faith,  the  religion  of  the  educated  class, 
alongside  of  the  polytheism  and  idolatry  in  which  the  multitude 
were  sunk.2  On  the  contrary,  Lepsius  thinks  that  the  Egyptian 
religion  took  its  start  in  sun-worship.  Other  Egyptologists  would 
make  sun-worship  intermediate  between  an  earlier  monotheism 
and  polytheism.  The  religion  of  the  Greeks,  as  all  know,  was 
a  polytheism  in  which  there  is  a  struggle  toward  unity  in  the  lofty 
image  of  Zeus,  as  the  father  of  gods  and  men,  and  as  the  fountain 
of  law  and  right,  which  is  found  in  the  writings  of  Sophocles  and 

1  Revue  de  VHistoire  des  Religions,  tom.  vi.  (1882),  No.  5,  p.  143. 

2  The  Religions  of  the  Ancient  World,  p.  29. 


THE  RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  OTHER  RELIGIONS  375 


of  his  contemporaries.  Turning  to  a  much  later  religion,  —  the 
religion  of  Mohammed,  —  we  find  passages  in  the  Koran  which 
imply  not  only  a  genuine  faith  in  the  Supreme  Being,  but  also  the 
ascription  to  him  of  certain  exalted  moral  attributes.  “  Your  God 
is  one  God  :  there  is  no  God  but  he,  the  merciful,  the  compassion¬ 
ate.”  1  Paradise  is  “  for  those  who  expend  in  alms  in  prosperity 
and  adversity,  for  those  who  repress  their  rage,  and  those  who 
pardon  men.  God  loves  the  kind.  Those  who,  when  they  do  a 
crime,  or  wrong  themselves,  remember  God  and  ask  forgiveness 
of  their  sins,  —  and  who  forgives  sins  save  God?  —  and  do  not 
persevere  in  what  they  did,  the  while  they  know,  these  have  their 
reward,  —  pardon  from  their  Lord,”  etc.2 

Passages  like  these,  taken  by  themselves,  would  give  a  higher 
idea  of  Mohammed’s  system  than  a  wider  view  warrants.  Those 
other  representations  must  be  taken  into  account,  in  which  the 
holiness  of  God  is  obscured,  the  prophet’s  fierce  resentment  is 
ascribed  to  the  Lord,  and  a  sensual  paradise  promised  to  the 
faithful.  “And  when  ye  meet  those  who  misbelieve  —  then  strike 
off  heads  until  ye  have  massacred  them,  and  bind  fast  the 
bonds.  .  .  .  Those  who  are  slain  in  God’s  cause.  .  .  .  He  will 
make  them  enter  into  paradise.”3  But  the  higher  elements  in 
the  religion  of  Mohammed,  strongly  as  they  seized  upon  his  faith, 
did  not  begin  with  him.  Kuenen  argues  that  he  knew  little  of 
Abraham,  and  that  the  identification  of  his  creed  with  that 
ascribed  to  the  patriarch,  which  is  found  in  the  Koran,  was  an 
afterthought.4  However  imperfect  his  knowledge  of  Abraham’s 
history  was,  the  name  of  the  patriarch  was  familiar  to  him.  It  is 
of  more  consequence  to  remember  that  his  main  tenet  was  the 
familiar  belief  of  the  Jews,  which  a  circle  of  Arab  devotees 
probably  still  cherished.  The  religion  of  Mohammed  was  a 
fanatical  crusade  against  polytheism  and  idolatry,  first  among  the 
Arabs,  and  then  in  the  degenerate  Christianity  of  the  Eastern 
Church.  The  ultimate  source  of  all  that  is  good  in  Mohammed’s 
movement  is  the  scriptures  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  which 
he  did  not  refuse  to  acknowledge,  little  as  he  really  knew  of 
their  contents,  and  far  as  he  was  from  comprehending  the 

1  The  Koran ,  Professor  Palmer’s  translation,  ch.  ii.  [150],  (vol.  i.  p.  22). 

2  Jbid.,  c.  iii.  [125],  [130],  vol.  i.  p.  63. 

3  Ibid.,  c.  xlvii.  [5],  (vol.  ii.  p.  229). 

4  Kuenen,  National  Religions  and  Universal  Religions ,  p.  12,  sec.  4. 


3  y6  THE  CR'JUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

prophetic  or  Messianic  element  of  the  Old  Testament  religion,  or 
its  fulfilment  in  the  Gospel.  Mohammedanism  has  one  grand  idea 
of  the  Old  Testament,  the  idea  of  God,  but  with  the  attribute  of 
holiness  largely  subtracted,  and  divested  of  the  principle  of  prog- 
ress?  which  issued,  in  the  case  of  the  religion  of  Israel,  in  the 
kingdom  of  Christ,  the  universal  religion  of  Jesus. 

History  indicates  that  polytheism,  whatever  be  its  origin,  tends, 
in  the  case  of  nations  that  advance  in  intelligence,  to  some  species 
of  monotheism.  Professor  Whitney  finds  “  unmistakable  indica¬ 
tions  of  the  beginnings  of  a  tendency  to  unity  in  the  later  Vedic 
hymns.”1  The  Graeco-Roman  religion  had  resolved  itself,  in  the 
minds  of  Plutarch  and  many  of  his  contemporaries,  into  a  belief 
in  one  Supreme  Being,  with  a  host  of  subordinate  divinities.  In 
the  second  century  of  the  Christian  era,  under  the  influence  of 
philosophy,  God  was  conceived  of  as  one  Being ;  and  the  minor 
deities  were  thought  of,  either  as  representing  the  variety  of  his 
functions,  or  as  instruments  of  his  providence.  This  was  the 
mode  of  thinking  in  cultivated  classes.  The  belief  and  rites  of 
the  common  people  remained  unaltered.  But  here  a  most  im¬ 
portant  fact  must  be  brought  to  the  attention  of  the  reader.  We 
find  that  the  tendencies  to  unification,  although  they  may  beget  a 
sort  of  monotheism  which  lingers  for  a  time,  commonly  issue  in 
Pantheism.  They  do  not  stop  at  monotheism  as  a  finality. 
Nature  still  holds  the  spirit  in  its  fetters.  If  it  is  not  a  multitude 
of  deities,  more  or  less  involved  in  natural  forces  and  functions,  it 
is  nature  as  a  whole,  figured  as  an  impersonal  agency,  into  which 
deity  is  merged.  It  was  so  in  the  ancient  classical  nations.  The 
esoteric  philosophy  and  theology  did  not  continue  deistic  ;  it  lapsed 
into  Pantheism. 

The  religions  of  India  are  a  notable  illustration  of  this  apparent 
helplessness  of  the  spirit  to  rise  above  nature,  above  the  realm  of 
things  finite,  to  the  absolute  and  personal  Being,  from  whom  are 
all  things.  One  of  the  most  learned  and  trustworthy  of  the 
expositors  of  the  religions  of  India  says,  “  India  is  radically 
pantheistic,  and  that  from  its  cradle  onwards.” 2  When  we 

1  Revue  de  VHistoire  des  Religions ,  tom.  vi.  (1882),  No.  5,  p.  143. 

2  Barth,  The  Religions  of  India,  p.  8.  Barth’s  work  still  retains  its  value, 
although  not  a  recent  publication.  Among  recent  works,  two  volumes  by 
Professor  Edward  Hopkins  are  especially  characterized  by  accurate  learning 
and  by  fairness:  The  Religions  of  India  (1895);  India  Old  and  RTew 
(1901):  (“Yale’s  Bicentennial  Publications”). 


THE  RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  OTHER  RELIGIONS  3 77 


examine  the  Brahmanical  religion  as  it  was  developed  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ganges,  we  find  a  thoroughly  pantheistic  system. 
Emanation  is  the  method  by  which  finite  things  originate.  Brahma 
is  the  impersonal  essence  or  life  of  all  things  :  from  Brahma,  gods, 
men,  the  earth,  and  all  things  else,  proceed.  This  alienation  from 
Brahma  is  evil.  The  finite  soul  can  find  no  peace,  save  in  the 
return  to  Brahma,  —  the  extinction  of  personal  consciousness. 
The  laws  of  Manu  close  with  the  sentiment,  “  He  who  in  his  own 
soul  perceives  the  Supreme  Soul  in  all  beings,  and  acquires 
equanimity  toward  all,  attains  the  highest  state  of  bliss.”  The 
Stoics,  and  Spinoza,  and  occasional  sayings  of  Emerson  are 
anticipated  in  this  Hindoo  sentence.  All  the  horrors  of  transmi¬ 
gration,  and  all  the  torments  of  Brahmanical  asceticism,  have  a 
genetic  relation  to  this  fundamental  pantheistic  tenet. 

Buddhism  is  the  religion  which  at  present  is  most  lauded  by 
those  who  would  put  Christianity  on  a  level  with  the  heathen  creeds. 
We  may  pass  by  the  perplexing  inquiry  as  to  how  much  the  life  of 
its  founder  is  history,  and  how  much  in  the  narrative  is  myth.  That 
Buddha  was  an  earnest  man,  deeply  struck  with  a  sense  of  the  misery 
of  the  world,  and  anxious  to  do  good,  may  be  safely  concluded. 
He  looked  upon  the  multitude  with  heart- felt  compassion. 
The  sages  hoped  for  eventual  happiness  only  through  painful  and 
life-long  asceticism.  The  common  people  were  enslaved  to  unin¬ 
telligible  ceremonies,  and  held  down  under  the  tyranny  of  the 
caste-system.  That  he  made  large  sacrifices  of  worldly  good  in 
pursuit  of  his  benevolent  purpose  is  equally  certain.  That  the 
moral  precepts  which  he  enjoined,  and  the  moral  spirit  which  he 
recommended  and  practised,  are  marked  by  a  purity  and  benevo¬ 
lence  scarcely  to  be  found  in  the  same  degree  elsewhere,  outside 
of  the  pale  of  Christianity,  is  evident.  Yet  nothing  can  be  better 
adapted  to  impress  one  with  the  immeasurable  superiority  of 
Christianity  to  non-Christian  systems  in  their  best  forms  than  a 
close  attention  to  the  Buddhistic  system. 

What  now  according  to  Buddha,  or  Qakyamuni,  is  the  cause, 
and  what  the  cure,  of  the  ills  of  life?  His  theory  is  embodied  . 
in  the  four  principles  :  ( 1 )  Existence  is  always  attended  with 
misery;  to  exist  is  to  suffer;  (2)  The  cause  of  pain  is  desire, 
which  increases  with  its  gratification;  (3)  Hence  the  cessation  or 
suppression  of  desire  is  necessary ;  (4)  There  are  four  stages  in 
the  way  to  this  result,  —  four  things  are  requisite.  These  are,  first, 


378  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


an  awakening  to  the  consciousness  that  to  exist  is  to  be  miserable, 
and  to  the  perception  that  misery  is  the  fruit  of  desire  or  passion ; 
secondly,  the  escape,  through  this  knowledge,  from  impure  and 
revengeful  feelings ;  thirdly,  the  getting  rid  successively  of  all 
evil  desires,  then  of  ignorance,  then  of  doubt,  then  of  heresy,  then 
of  unkindliness  and  vexation.  When  the  believer  has  reached 
the  fourth  stage,  he  is  ready  for  Nirvana.  What  is  Nirvana? 
What  is  the  blessed  goal  where  all  self-discipline  reaches  its 
reward?  It  is  the  extinction  of  personal  being.  It  is  annihila¬ 
tion.  That  this  is  the  doctrine  of  Buddha,  scholars  generally  hold.1 
The  same  scholars  who  declare  this  to  be  the  outcome  of  the 
latest  and  most  thorough  investigations  also  find  that  Nirvana  was 
held  to  be  attainable  in  this  life  ; 2  that  is,  this  term  was  applied  by 
early  Buddhist  teachers  to  the  serenity  which  is  reached  by  the 
saint  here.  But  this  does  not  imply  that  there  is  a  continuance  of 
individual  being  beyond  death.3  Buddha  himself  steadily  refused 
to  give  an  answer  to  the  question.  The  most  competent  scholars 
rightly  conclude  that  he  did  not  believe  in  an  existence  after 
death.  So  far  as  Nirvana  is  the  extinction  of  those  evil  passions 
and  the  deliverance  from  that  grievance  which  deprives  us  of 
peace,  it  is  even  attainable  in  this  life.  But  the  sole  blessing  that 
comes  with  death  is  the  full  and  final  parting  with  the  weariness 
of  existence.4  It  is  sometimes  thought  that  transmigration  is 
inconsistent  with  the  denial  that  the  soul  is  a  substantial  entity. 
But  the  pantheistic  theory  as  seen  in  the  Brahmanical  system, 
while  it  subtracts  personality  from  the  soul,  may  hold  that  the 
finite  being  which  we  call  “  the  soul  ”  may  be  embodied  not  once 
only,  but  an  indefinite  number  of  times.  Yet  to  exist  as  distinct 
from  the  Absolute,  or  as  self-conscious,  is  the  evil  of  evils.  But 
while  some  have  thought  that  Buddha  himself  may  possibly  have 
held  to  the  “ vaguely  apprehended  and  feebly  postulated  ego” 
passing  from  one  existence  to  another,  —  a  doctrine  found  in  the 

1  See  T.  W.  Rhys  Davids’s  article,  “  Buddhism,”  Encycl.  Brit.,  vol.  iv.  p.  434; 
Barth,  p.  no;  Tide’s  Outlines  of  the  History  of  Religion ,  etc.,  p.  35;  Koep- 
pen,  Die  Religion  d.  Buddha,  i.  306;  Edkins,  Chinese  Buddhism,  p.  45. 

2  Rhys  Davids’s  Lectures  on  Origin  and  Growth  of  Religion,  etc.,  pp.  100,  253* 

3  Ibid.,  p.  10 1. 

4  Hopkins,  The  Religions  of  India,  p.  321.  “Orthodox  teaching  in  the 
ancient  order  of  Buddhists  inculcated  expressly  on  its  converts  to  forgo  the 
knowledge  of  the  being  or  non-being  of  the  perfected  saint.”  —  Oldenburg, 
Buddha,  His  Life ,  His  Doctrine ,  His  Order ,  p.  276. 


THE  RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  OTHER  RELIGIONS  379 

Sanskrit  books  of  the  North,1  —  without  question,  the  accepted 
doctrine  of  the  sect  was,  that  the  Buddhist,  strictly  speaking,  does 
not  revive,  but  another  in  his  place, — the  “  Karma,”  which  is  the 
reunion  of  the  constituent  qualities  that  made  up  his  being.  “  Such 
is  the  doctrine  of  the  entire  orthodox  literature  of  Southern 
Buddhism.”2  “  Buddhism  does  not  acknowledge  the  existence  of 
a  soul  as  a  thing  distinct  from  the  parts  and  powers  of  man  which 
are  dissolved  at  death ;  and  the  Nirvana  of  Buddhism  is  simply 
extinction.” 3  “  Buddha  believed  neither  in  God  nor  soul,  but  he 

believed,  and  every  form  of  his  church  believed,  in  the  transmigra¬ 
tion  of  character,  as  an  entity,  with  a  new  body,  a  theory  which  has 
nothing  to  do  with  heredity,  with  which  it  has  been  compared.”4 
The  Buddhist  aspires  to  Nirvana,  to  the  end  that  he  may  avert 
the  pains  of  transmigration  from  another,  his  heir  or  successor. 

Dr.  Fairbairn,  in  a  just  appreciation  of  the  excellences  of  Buddha’s 
teaching,  styles  him  “a  transcendent  theist.”5 *  He  points  out  that 
“  nothing  could  be  farther  than  the  soul  or  system  of  the  Buddha 
from  what  we  mean  by  Pantheism.”  It  is  explained  that  his  denial 
of  Brahmanisms  and  his  altruistic  ethics  are  in  their  spirit  theistic.5 
And  it  is  explained  further  that  “  Buddha’s  theory  was  pessimistic, 
for  it  conceived  being  as  sorrow,  and  the  discipline  he  enforced 
was  a  method  for  the  cessation  of  personal  existence.”  7  Buddhism 
may  be  described  as  the  apotheosis  of  the  ethical  personality  — 
the  deification  was  none  the  less  complete  that  the  religion  knew 
no  God,  though  it  was  a  result  that  at  once  paralyzed  the  intellect 
and  quickened  and  satisfied  the  heart.5 

It  is  in  this  method  of  self-discipline,  and  in  the  tempers  of 
heart  which  are  inculcated,  that  the  exceptionally  attractive  points 
of  Buddhism  are  comprised.  Chastity,  temperance,  patience,  and, 
crowning  all,  universal  charity  are  to  be  earnestly  cultivated  as  the 
indispensable  means  of  redemption  from  the  dread  of  transmigra¬ 
tion  and  from  the  pains  of  existence.  His  personal  traits  were  the 
most  potent  cause  of  the  spread  of  his  influence. 

It  is  obvious  what  are  the  merits  of  Buddhism  and  their  limits. 

1  Barth,  pp.  112,  113. 

2Burnouf,  Introd.,  p.  507  (Barth,  p.  112). 

3  Rhys  Davids,  Encycl.  Brit.,  vol.  iv.  p.  434,  where  the  proofs  are  given. 

4  Hopkins,  India  Old  and  New ,  p.  138. 

5  Philosophy  of  the  Christian  Religion ,  p.  243. 

7  Ibid. ,  p.  121. 


380  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


Buddha  was  no  avowed  antagonist  of  the  traditional  Brahminical 
religion.  He  set  on  foot  no  crusade  against  caste.  Warfare  against 
Brahmanism  and  caste  arose  later.  There  is  a  common  family 
likeness  between  his  doctrine  and  the  contemporary  speculations 
of  the  philosophy  of  the  Brahmans.  In  a  tone  lacking  the  justly 
sympathetic  spirit  of  Dr.  Fairbairn,  an  eminent  scholar  has  said  : 
“Atheism,  scornful  disregard  of  the  cultus  and  tradition,  the 
conception  of  a  religion  entirely  spiritual,  a  contempt  for  finite 
existence,  belief  in  transmigration,  and  the  necessity  of  deliver¬ 
ance  from  it,  the  feeble  idea  of  the  personality  of  man,”  —  these 
are  among  the  features  found  in  Buddhism  and  the  Upanishads.1 

The  monkish  system,  which  became  so  popular  after  the  death 
of  Buddha,  was  as  blighting  in  its  influence  on  intellectual  develop¬ 
ment,  and  as  adverse  to  the  well-being  of  men,  as  anything  in  the 
Brahmanical  creed  or  rites.  The  first  monasteries  had  for  their 
aim  study  and  the  cultivation  of  the  spirit  of  which  Buddha 
was  an  example.  Monasticism,  as  Kuenen  has  remarked,  is  an 
excrescence  in  the  Christian  system.  The  “  Son  of  man  came 
eating  and  drinking.”  “There  could  be  no  Buddhism  without 
1  bhikshus  ’  —  there  is  a  Christianity  without  monks.”  “  That  which 
in  one  case  constitutes  the  very  essence  of  the  religion  and  cannot 
be  removed  from  it,  even  in  thought,  without  annulling  the  system 
itself,  is  in  the  other  case  .  .  .  the  natural  but  one-sided  develop¬ 
ment  of  certain  elements  in  the  original  movement,  coupled  with 
gross  neglect  of  others  which  have  equal  or  still  higher  right  to 
assert  themselves.”  2 

Buddha  was  the  great  apostle  of  Pessimism,  since  he  sought  to  point 
out  a  virtuous  method  of  getting  rid  of  existence.  The  Brahman 
sought  to  save  himself ;  Buddha  sought,  also,  to  save  others.  But 
from  what?  From  the  ills  of  conscious  existence.  It  remains  a 
literal  truth  that  “  Buddha  believed  neither  in  God  nor  soul.”  It  is 
literally  a  system  without  God  and  without  hope,  save  the  negative 
hope  of  deliverance  from  personal  life.  He  invited  the  victims  of 
sorrow  and  terror  to  imitate  him  with  no  promise  of  escape  from 
annihilation  !  Contrast  the  invitation  of  Him  who  said,  “  Come  unto 
me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest  ”  ! 
This  rest  was  in  fellowship  with  him,  involving  in  it  communion 
with  the  heavenly  Father,  without  whom  not  a  sparrow  falls,  who 
makes  all  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love  him,  and 
1  Barth,  p.  115.  2  Kuenen,  p.  306. 


THE  RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  OTHER  RELIGIONS  38 1 

opens  the  gates  of  heaven  at  last  to  the  soul  that  has  been  trained 
by  earthly  service  for  the  higher  service  and  unmingled  blessedness 
of  the  life  to  come. 

In  expressions  in  the  New  Testament  on  the  burdens  that  attend 
our  life  on  earth  there  is  a  radical  unlikeness  to  the  pessimism  of  the 
founder  of  Buddhism.  The  teleology  of  Buddha  holds  out  no 
prospect  of  a  ripeness  of  character  which  leads  to  a  perfection  of 
conscious  blessedness,  the  life  everlasting.  Buddhism,  vigorous  at 
its  birth,  “has  been  smitten  with  premature  decrepitude.  .  .  .  Some 
are  at  times  fain  to  regard  Buddhism  as  a  spiritual  emancipation,  a 
kind  of  Hindoo  Reformation  ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  in  certain 
respects  it  was  both.”  But  it  created  an  institution  “  far  more 
illiberal,  and  formidable  to  spiritual  independence,”  than  the  caste 
system.  “  Not  only  did  all  the  vitality  of  the  Church  continue  in  a 
clergy  living  apart  from  the  world  ;  but  among  this  clergy  itself  the 
conquering  zeal  of  the  first  centuries  gradually  died  away  under  the 
influence  of  Quietism  and  the  discipline  enforced.  .  .  .  All  bold¬ 
ness  and  true  originality  of  thought  disappeared  in  the  end  in  the 
bosom  of  this  spirit-weakening  organization.”  1  The  secret  of  its 
decadence  in  India,  its  original  home,  was  its  own  degeneracy.  It 
became  at  length  “  as  much  a  skeleton  as  was  the  Brahmanism  of 
the  sixth  century.  As  the  Brahmanic  belief  had  decomposed  into 
spiritless  rites,  so  Buddhism,  changed  into  dialectic  and  idolatry 
(for  in  lieu  of  a  god  the  later  church  worshipped  Buddha),  had 
lost  now  all  hold  upon  the  people.  The  love  of  man,  the  spirit  of 
Buddhism,  was  dead,  and  Buddhism  crumbled  into  the  dust.”  2 

What  is  the  real  significance  of  Buddhism  as  an  historical  phe¬ 
nomenon?  It  is  the  most  powerful  testimony  ever  given  to  the 
burden  that  rests  on  human  nature.  From,  its  millions  upon  mill¬ 
ions  of  adherents  there  arises  an  unconscious  call  for  the  help 
which  their  own  system  cannot  provide.  Buddhism,  in  its  inmost 
purport,  is  a  part  of  the  wail  of  humanity  in  its  yearning  for 
redemption.  It  is  an  eloquent  witness  to  the  need  of  Revelation. 
It  is  a  comment  on  the  text,  “No  man  knoweth  the  Father  but 
the  Son.” 

The  parallelisms  existing,  or  supposed  to  exist,  between  passages 
in  the  Buddhistic  and  other  Hindoo  religious  writings  and  passages 
in  the  gospels  have  occasioned  much  discussion.  These  relate  to 
sayings  and  to  historical  circumstances.  They  are  reviewed  care- 

1  Barth,  p.  137.  2  Hopkins,  The  Religions  of  India ,  p.  342. 


382  THE  GROUNDS  OF  TIIEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 


fully  and  with  studious  impartiality  by  Professor  Hopkins.1  As 
concerned  with  facts ,  the  “  parallels  ”  are  in  Buddhism.  These 
are  more  than  fifty  in  number.  Of  these,  only  five  are  of  a  date 
to  lend  even  plausibility  to  the  idea  of  a  borrowing  on  the 
side  of  Christianity.  One  of  the  most  noted  of  them  is  that  per¬ 
taining  to  the  miraculous  conception.  In  the  story  of  the  miracu¬ 
lous  birth  of  Buddha  the  early  texts  declare  that  his  mother  is  not 
a  virgin.  The  notion  of  an  indebtedness  of  Christianity  to  the 
Buddhistic  tale  and  child-cult  is  on  other  accounts  void  of  prob¬ 
ability.  In  general,  the  evidence  bears  out  the  conclusion  of 
Professor  Hopkins,  “  Where  the  parallels  make  borrowing  seem 
probable,  as  in  the  case  of  miracles  and  legends  not  found  in 
other  religions,  and  striking  enough  to  suggest  a  loan,  the  historical 
evidence  is  strongly  in  favor  of  Christianity  having  been  not  the 
copyist  but  the  originator.”  2  So  far  as  sayings  are  concerned,  the 
supposed  parallels  belong  to  Krishnaism,  the  type  of  religion  of 
which  Krishna,  a  local  leader,  imagined  to  be  an  incarnation  of 
Vishnu,  was  the  originator.  The  literature  here  is  later  than  the 
time  of  Buddha.  In  Krishnaism  the  imagined  loan  to  the  gospels, 
as  regards  the  Synoptics,  is  evidently  destitute  of  substantial  proof. 
The  same  conclusion  is  justified  upon  due  examination  in  the  case 
of  John.  This  Gospel  was  of  a  character  “  that  made  it  peculiarly 
suitable  to  influence  the  Hindoo  divines,  who  transferred  from  it 
such  phrases  and  sentiments  as  best  fitted  in  with  the  conception 
of  Krishna  as  a  god  of  love.”  3  Christian  teaching  in  the  first 
centuries  had  various  avenues  of  access  and  of  influence  on  the 
thought  of  India  and  its  religious  guides.  Professor  Hopkins, 
while  anxious  to  avoid  any  statement  not  well  attested,  says,  “  I 
must  confess  that  the  ingrowth  of  Christian  ideas  may  have  been 
deeper  than  we  can  state  with  certainty,  and  that,  for  example, 
the  little  band  of  early  Christians  in  South  India  may  have  been 
instrumental  in  fashioning  the  lofty  ideals  of  some  of  the  noble 
religions  which  we  know  existed  in  after  time  and  the  influence 
of  which  in  their  turn  may  still  be  potent  among  the  sects  of 
to-day.”  4 

Christianity  received  from  its  parent,  the  religion  of  Israel,  the 
truth  of  a  living,  personal  God  —  a  God  not  merged  in  nature, 

1  The  elaborate  discussion  bearing  the  title  “  Christ  in  India,”  in  India  Old 
and  New,  covers  pp.  120-168. 

2  India  Old  and  Nezv,  p.  143.  3  Ibid.,  p.  158.  4  Ibid.,  p.  168. 


THE  RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  OTHER  RELIGIONS  383 

but  the  Author  of  nature.  The  personality  of  God  gives  to  man 
his  true  place.  Man  is  a  person ;  and  religion,  instead  of  being 
a  mystic  absorption  of  the  individual,  is  the  communion  of  person 
with  person.  Immortality  is  personal.  The  guaranty  and  evidence 
of  it  is  in  the  relation  of  man  to  God,  and  in  the  exalted  position 
which  is  thereby  conferred  on  man.  This  guaranty  becomes  a 
joyous  assurance,  when  the  believer  is  conscious  of  being  spiritually 
united  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  a  partaker  of  his  life.  The  great  idea 
of  the  kingdom  of  God  is  the  object  of  aspiration  and  of  effort  — 
the  goal  of  history.  The  life  that  now  is,  instead  of  being  branded 
as  a  curse,  is  made  a  theatre  for  the  realization  of  a  divine  purpose, 
and  the  school  for  a  state  of  being  for  which,  when  rightly  used, 
it  is  the  natural  precursor. 

Through  such  characteristics  as  these,  Christianity  is  fitted  to 
be  the  religion  of  mankind.  None  of  the  systems  which  have 
aspired  to  this  distinction  has  the  remotest  hope  of  attaining  it. 
None  of  these  systems  contains  a  single  element  of  value,  which 
is  not  found  in  its  own  place  in  the  Christian  system.  On  the 
contrary,  there  is  nothing  in  Christianity  which  forms  any  perma¬ 
nent  barrier  to  its  acceptance  by  any  race  or  nation.  No  other 
religion  has  in  an  equal  degree  proved  its  adaptedness  to  be  the 
religion  of  the  world.  It  addresses  itself,  not  to  a  single  people, 
nor  to  any  branch  of  the  human  race  exclusively  or  specially,  but 
to  mankind.  The  apostles  were  directed  to  carry  it  “  to  every 
creature.”  The  idea  of  the  brotherhood  of  the  race  becomes  in 
Christianity  a  realized  fact.  Appealing  to  a  common  religious 
nature,  a  common  consciousness  of  sin  and  of  the  need  of  help,  a 
common  sense  of  the  burden  of  sorrow  and  mortality,  and  offering 
a  remedy  which  is  equally  adapted  to  all,  Christianity  shows  itself 
possessed  of  the  attributes  of  a  universal  religion.  Being,  on  the 
practical  side,  a  religion  of  principles,  and  not  of  rules,  it  enters 
into  every  form  of  human  society  and  every  variety  of  individual 
character,  with  a  renovating  and  moulding  agency. 

How  shall  the  rise  of  such  a  religion  be  accounted  for?  We  are 
pointed  back  to  Hebrew  monotheism.  But  here  we  meet  with  a 
phenomenon  altogether  unique,  both  in  its  origin  and  in  its  effects. 
That  the  doctrine  of  Moses  was  not  derived  from  the  religion  of 
Egypt,  scholars  of  every  type  of  theological  belief  unite  in  affirm¬ 
ing.  The  question  whence  Moses  derived  his  idea  of  God,  says 
Wellhausen,  “  could  not  possibly  be  worse  answered  than  by  a 


384  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

reference  to  his  relations  with  the  priestly  caste  of  Egypt  and  their 
wisdom.  It  is  not  to  be  believed  that  an  Egyptian  deity  could 
inspire  the  Hebrews  of  Goshen  with  courage  for  the  struggle 
against  the  Egyptians,  or  that  an  abstraction  of  esoteric  specula¬ 
tion  could  become  the  national  deity  of  Israel.”1  16  Amongst  stu¬ 
dents  of  Israelite  religion,”  says  Kuenen,  “  there  is  not,  as  far  as 
I  know,  a  single  one  who  derives  Yahvism  ”  — the  worship  of 
Jehovah  —  “from  Egypt,  either  in  the  strange  manner  hit  upon 
by  Comte,  or  in  any  other.”1 2  “It  may  be  confidently  asserted,” 
says  Renouf,  “  that  neither  Hebrews  nor  Greeks  borrowed  any  of 
their  ideas  from  Egypt.”  3  The  Decalogue  commands  the  exclu¬ 
sive  worship  of  Jehovah.  The  spirituality  of  the  conception  is 
carried  out  in  the  prohibition  of  all  images  and  representations  of 
him.  The  substratum  of  the  “Ten  Words”  is  ascribed  to  Moses 
by  Ewald  and  many  other  critics.  The  additional  prohibition  is 
considered  by  many  to  be  of  a  later  date.  Dillmann  is  of  the  con¬ 
trary  opinion  :  “  In  the  post-Mosaic  period,”  he  says,  “  at  least 
in  the  central  sanctuary  of  the  whole  people,  and  in  the  temple  of 
Solomon,  the  unrepresentable  character  of  Jehovah  through  any 
image  was  a  recognized  principle.  The  worship  of  an  image  on 
Sinai  (Exod.  xxxii.),  in  the  time  of  the  judges,  in  the  kingdom  of 
the  ten  tribes,  does  not  prove  that  a  prohibition  of  image-worship 
was  not  known,  but  only  that  is  was  very  hard  in  the  mass  of  the 
people,  especially  of  the  northern  tribes,  which  were  more  under 
Canaanite  influences,  to  bring  this  law  to  a  recognition ;  and  for 
centuries,  in  fact,  it  was  a  subject  of  strife  between  a  stricter  and 
a  laxer  party,  since  the  latter  only  forbade  an  image  of  a  false  god, 
the  former  forbade  every  image  of  Jehovah  likewise.” 4  The 
prophets  Amos  and  Hosea  do  not  insist  on  the  exclusion  of 
images  as  if  this  prohibition  were  anything  new.  We  need  not 
inquire  whether  the  non-existence  of  other  deities  was  expressly 
asserted  in  the  Mosaic  teaching  or  not.5  Since  Moses  did  not 
derive  the  idea  of  God  from  the  Egyptian  theology,  both  the 
historical  records  and  the  probabilities  of  the  case  testify  that 
it  was  the  God  of  the  forefathers  whose  existence,  and  relations 

1  Encycl.  Brit .,  art.  “Israel,”  vol.  xiii.  p.  400. 

2  National  Religions  and  Universal  Religions ,  p.  64. 

8  The  Religion  of  Ancient  Egypt ,  p.  254. 

4  Die  Bucher  Exodus  u .  Leviticus ,  p.  209. 

6  On  this  subject,  see  Oehler,  ii.  155. 


THE  RELATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  TO  OTHER  RELIGIONS  385 

to  the  people,  were  by  him  brought  home  afresh  to  their  con¬ 
sciousness.  The  entire  work  of  Moses  as  a  founder  admits  of  no 
historical  explanation,  without  the  assumption  of  a  higher  religion 
before,  such  as,  according  to  Genesis,  belonged  to  the  fathers  ;  but 
such  a  higher  religion  necessarily  implies  personal  media,  or  rep¬ 
resentatives.  “  Advances  in  religion  link  themselves  to  eminent 
personalities ;  and  the  recollection  of  them  is  commonly  kept  up 
in  the  people  who  come  after  who  have  been  gathered  into  unity 
as  sharers  in  common  of  their  faith.”  Hence  the  narrative  of  the 
faith  of  Abraham  derives  a  strong  historical  corroboration  from 
the  faith  and  work  of  Moses.1  Whatever  difference  may  exist  on 
the  question  whether  belief  in  the  existence  of  other  gods  outside 
of  Israel,  inferior  to  Jehovah,  lingered  among  the  people  after  the 
age  of  Moses,  all  allow  that,  as  early  as  the  eighth  century,  the 
conception  of  Jehovah  as  the  only  existing  God  was  proclaimed 
by  the  prophets  in  the  clearest  manner.  How  unique  was  this 
monotheism  !  Other  nations  somehow  made  room  for  the  gods 
of  foreign  peoples.  They  brought  them  into  the  Pantheon,  or 
they  gave  them  homes  within  their  own  proper  boundaries.  Not 
so  with  Israel.  Jehovah  was  God,  and  there  was  no  other.  And 
he  was  a  holy  God.  In  this  grand  particular,  the  conception  was 
distinguished  from  heathen  ideas  of  divinity.  How  shall  this  idea 
of  Jehovah,  so  peculiar  and  so  elevated,  be  accounted  for?  The 
notion  of  a  Semitic  tendency  to  monotheism  has  a  very  slender 
foundation,  and  would  lead  us  to  expect  the  religion  of  Jehovah 
to  arise  in  Babylon  or  Tyre  as  soon  as  among  the  people  of  Israel. 

If  we  leave  the  question  of  the  origin  of  Hebrew  monotheism, 
how  shall  it  be  explained  that  it  did  not  sink  down,  when  it  had 
once  arisen,  into  Pantheism,  as  was  the  fact  in  other  religions,  — 
for  example,  in  the  religion  of  the  Hindoos,  and  in  the  philosophy 
of  the  Greeks,  which  Lord  Bacon  calls  “  the  pagan  divinity  ”  ? 
How  did  this  unique  and  extraordinary  faith  keep  up  its  vitality, 
age  after  age,  in  the  presence  of  seductive  types  of  heathenism, 
and  in  the  midst  of  political  disintegration  and  ruin?  How  came 
the  light,  when  it  had  dawned,  to  go  on  increasing  to  the  perfect 
day,  instead  of  fading  out,  as  elsewhere,  in  the  gloom  of  night  ? 

Leaving  these  problems,  too,  unsolved,  how  was  it  that  the 
Hebrew  monotheism  held  within  itself  the  seeds  of  so  great  a 
future?  Assailants  of  the  Old  Testament  religion  never  tire  of 

1  See  Dillmann,  Die  Genesis ,  pp.  228,  229. 


386  THE  GROUNDS  OF  THEISTIC  AND  CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

dwelling  on  the  alleged  narrowness  of  Jewish  theology,  and  on  the 
selfish  and  unsocial  character  of  their  religious  theory.  It  cannot 
be  denied  that,  in  spite  of  the  injunctions  of  the  prophets,  who 
insisted  that  the  election  of  Israel  and  its  advantages  were  for  a 
service  to  be  rendered,  the  consciousness  of  being  a  Chosen 
People  often  engendered  an  arrogant  and  intolerant  spirit  toward 
the  nations  less  favored ;  that  is,  the  bulk  of  mankind.  Yet  what 
was  the  actual  outcome?  It  was  the  religion  of  universal  love, 
of  the  equality  of  men  before  God,  of  the  fatherhood  of  God  and 
the  brotherhood  of  the  race.  It  was  the  religion  of  Jesus.  “  By 
their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them.,,  The  Old  Testament  was  the  one 
book  with  which  Jesus  was  familiar.  In  the  teaching  of  the  Old 
Testament  the  apostles  were  steeped.  The  originality  of  Jesus 
is  not  more  marked,  and  his  advance  beyond  all  previous  doctrine, 
than  is  the  organic  relation  of  his  instruction  and  work,  of  the 
type  of  character  which  he  exemplified  and  enjoined,  to  the  Old 
Testament  ideas.  The  God  whom  we  worship,  if  we  believe  in  God, 
is  the  God  of  the  fathers  of  Israel,  of  Moses,  of  Samuel,  of  Isaiah, 
and  of  David,  of  Paul,  and  of  John,  —  even  the  Father  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  There  is  no  break  in  the  unity  of  the  religious  con¬ 
sciousness  from  that  far  remote  day  when  the  progenitor  of  Israel 
believed  in  God,  and  was  lifted  above  the  life  of  sense  by  his  com¬ 
munion  with  the  Invisible.  With  this  religious  consciousness,  the 
ethical  development  up  to  its  consummation  in  the  impartial  jus¬ 
tice  and  unselfish  love  of  man  as  man,  which  is  the  rule  of  Christ, 
is  inseparably  connected.  With  it  is  connected  the  ever  unfold¬ 
ing  dictates  and  corollaries  of  this  principle,  by  which  wrongs  and 
miseries  are  more  and  more  discerned  and  lessened. 

How  shall  such  a  religion,  founded  on  such  a  conception  of 
God,  be  accounted  for?  Who  that  believes  in  God  can  find  it 
incredible  that  it  springs  from  his  revelation  of  himself,  —  a  self¬ 
revelation,  consummated  in  Christ?  An  examination  of  other 
religions,  instead  of  shaking  the  faith  of  a  Christian,  tends  to 
fortify  it. 


APPENDIX 


NOTE  I  (p.  23) 

When  the  possession  by  man  of  a  rational  spirit,  self-conscious  and 
with  the  power  of  self-motion,  is  recognized,  the  key  is  found  to  the 
ultimate  source  of  religion.  On  this  question,  one  method  of  inquiry 
is  to  inspect  the  cults  and  customs  of  savage  and  half-civilized  races. 
This  appears  strange  in  such  as  bring  the  history  of  religion  under  the 
law  of  evolution.  One  would  expect  them  to  look  for  the  essential 
nature  of  religion,  not  in  its  rudimental  forms,  but  rather  through  a 
study  of  its  mature  development.  The  juxtaposition  of  all  sorts  of 
religion,  in  quest  of  a  common  characteristic,  is  not  the  true  method 
of  science.  Yet  this  is  the  method  of  Mr.  Spencer.  His  course  would 
be  to  discard  whatever  is  distinctive  in  the  various  creeds  and  cults  of 
the  race,  and  to  fasten  on  the  residuum,  an  abstract  idea.1 

The  traditional  view  that  the  human  race  sprang  from  one  pair,  —  a 
view  not  treated  with  disfavor  by  certain  eminent  naturalists, —  and 
the  question  as  to  the  mental  and  moral  characteristics  of  “  man 
primeval,”  are  topics  which  there  is  not  space  here  to  discuss.  Exag¬ 
gerations  on  the  last  point,  so  common  formerly,  —  as  when  the  famous 
preacher,  Robert  South,  said  that  Aristotle  was  the  rubbish  of  Adam  and 
Athens  the  ruins  of  Paradise,  — are  no  longer  heard.  The  deism  of  the 
last  century  made  a  full  enlightenment  respecting  God,  which  theology 
ascribed  to  a  revelation  to  the  primitive  man,  to  be  the  product  of  his 
own  natural  powers.  This  hypothesis  is  extinct ;  and  if  there  were  any 
sufficient  warrant  for  that  of  a  primitive  revelation,  it  would  still  imply 
a  religious  capacity  in  the  recipient  of  it.  Religion  cannot  be  created 
outright  by  a  bare  communication  of  facts  respecting  the  supernatural. 
To  be  sure,  the  possibility  of  lapses,  in  the  course  of  history,  from  a 
higher  plane  of  religious  knowledge,  is  sustained  by  facts  and  must  be 
conceded.  Yet  the  survival  in  various  advanced  types  of  religion  of  ideas 
and  rites  not  essentially  diverse  from  notions  and  cults  now  prevalent 
in  rude  tribes  proves  that  an  upward  movement  has  been  a  widespread 
experience  of  mankind,  whatever  were  the  precise  characteristics  of  the 
earliest  religion. 

1  For  a  criticism  of  this  faulty  method,  see  Dr.  E.  Caird,  The  Evolution  of 
Religion ,  vol.  i.  pp.  46  seq. 


387 


388 


APPENDIX 


One  thing  is  certain,  that  all  speculations  respecting  the  origin  of 
religion  which  refer  it  purely  to  an  empirical  or  accidental  source  are 
superficial.  The  theory  that  religious  beliefs  spring  from  tradition  fails 
to  give  any  account  of  their  origin,  to  say  nothing  of  their  chronic  con¬ 
tinuance  and  of  the  tremendous  power  which  they  exert  among  men. 
The  notion  that  religions  are  the  invention  of  shrewd  statesmen  and 
rulers,  devised  by  them  as  a  means  of  managing  the  populace,  probably 
has  no  advocates  at  present.  It  belongs  among  the  obsolete  theories 
of  free-thinkers  in  the  last  century.  How  could  religion  be  made  so 
potent  an  instrument  if  its  roots  were  not  deep  in  human  nature  ? 
Timor  facit  deos  is  another  opinion.  Its  most  interesting  ancient 
expositor  was  Lucretius.  Religion  is  supposed,  on  this  view,  to  arise 
from  the  effect  on  rude  minds  of  storms,  convulsions  of  nature,  and 
other  phenomena  which  inspired  terror  and  were  referred  to  super¬ 
natural  beings.  But  why  should  the  thought  of  such  beings  spring  up 
in  this  connection  ?  It  is  a  shallow  hypothesis,  which,  for  one  thing, 
overlooks  the  fact  that  impressions  of  this  kind  are  fleeting.  They 
alternate,  also,  with  aspects  of  nature  of  an  entirely  different  character. 
If  nature  is  terrific,  it  is  likewise  gracious  and  bountiful.  Divinities 
having  these  mild  traits  appear  in  early  mythologies.  A  favorite  view 
of  a  school  of  anthropologists  at  present  is  that  religion  began  in 
fetich-worship  and  arose  by  degrees  through  the  worship  of  animals  to 
a  conception  of  loftier  deities  conceived  of  as  being  in  human  form. 
For  this  generalization  the  historical  data  are  wanting.  Even  where 
fetich-worship  exists,  the  material  object  itself  is  not  the  god.  Rather 
is  it  true  that  the  stick  or  stone  is  considered  the  vehicle  or  embodi¬ 
ment  of  divine  agencies  acting  through  it.  “  The  external  objects 
of  nature  never  appear  to  the  childish  fantasy  as  mere  things  of  sense, 
but  always  as  animated  beings,  which,  therefore,  in  some  way  or  other, 
include  in  themselves  a  spirit.”  1 

The  “  philological  theory  ”  has  been  elaborately  set  forth  by  Max 
Muller.  It  traces  mythological  beliefs  to  mistakes  in  interpreting 
language.  Gender-terminations  of  words  and  phrases,  implying  life 
and  motion,  at  first  figuratively  meant,  but  later  taken  literally,  are 
supposed  to  account  for  the  conceptions  and  tales  of  the  heathen 
religions.  This  theory  labors  under  difficulties  too  numerous  and 
formidable  to  be  overcome.2  One  of  them  is  that  the  obtuse  interpre¬ 
tation  of  metaphors  is  attributed  not  to  barbarous,  but  to  civilized  men. 

Animism,  the  natural  tendency  to  personalize  the  objects  and 
operations  of  nature,  is  the  philosophy  most  accepted.  But  the  term 
“  animism  ”  is  employed  by  Tylor,  one  of  its  well-known  advocates,  to 

1  Pfleiderer,  Religionsphilosophie,  p.  319. 

2  A  recital  of  these  objections  may  be  read  in  A.  Long’s  article,  “  Mythology,” 
in  Encycl.  Brit.,  vol.  xxvii.  p.  139. 


APPENDIX 


389 


comprise  not  only  the  worship  of  deceased  human  beings,  but  also 
the  worship  which  springs  from  the  ascription  of  spiritual  life  to  material 
objects  in  the  world  about  us,  and  to  the  natural  phenomena  which 
science  assumes  to  connect  with  impersonal  forces.  Spencer,  on  the 
contrary,  would  confine  the  beginnings  of  religion  to  the  worship  of 
deceased  ancestors. 

No  doubt  animism,  the  natural  impulse  to  personalize  the  objects  and 
operations  of  nature,  is  a  principal  factor  in  solving  the  problem. 
Uncivilized  peoples  project  into  things,  animate  and  inanimate,  the  life 
and  personal  qualities  which  belong  to  men  as  these  are  known  to  them. 
As  such  peoples  may  believe  in  their  own  kinship  with  animals  and 
even  with  plants,  and  as  they  have  faith  in  magical  arts,  irrational 
as  well  as  savage  myths  arise.  These  often  survive  and  then  mingle 
with  myths  of  a  higher  caste,  which  spring  up  in  times  less  ignorant 
and  brutal.  Herbert  Spencer,  on  the  contrary,  would  confine  the  begin¬ 
nings  of  religion  to  the  worship  of  deceased  ancestors,  and  from  this 
would  deduce  the  whole  variety  of  religious  notions  and  cults. 

Ancestor-worship  itself  he  would  explain  by  a  dream-theory  and  a 
ghost-theory  combined.1  The  “  primitive  man,”  who  is  so  far  off  as  to 
give  room  for  any  number  of  guesses  about  him,  mistakes  his  shadow 
for  another  man,  the  duplicate  of  himself.  Whether  he  makes  the 
same  mistake  about  every  rock  and  wigwam  from  which  a  shadow  is 
cast,  we  are  not  told.  His  image  seen  in  the  water  gives  him  a  more 
definite  idea  of  his  other  self.  Echoes  help  still  more  in  the  same 
direction.  Then  there  is  the  distinction  between  “  the  animate,”  or, 
rather,  animals,  and  “  the  inanimate.”  Here  Spencer  rejects  what  the 
soundest  writers  on  mythology  hold,  that  the  personifying  imagination 
of  men,  who  as  regards  reflection  are  children,  confounds  the  inanimate 
with  the  living.  The  lower  animals,  dogs  and  horses,  do  not ;  and 
is  man  below  them  in  knowledge?  This  position  of  Spencer  is  charac¬ 
teristic  of  his  whole  theory.  If  man  were  on  the  level  of  the  dog  or  the 
horse,  if  he  were  not  conscious,  in  some  degree,  of  will  and  personality, 
then,  like  them,  he  might  never  impute  to  rivers  and  streams  and  trees 
personal  life.  Dreams,  according  to  Spencer,  create  the  fixed  belief 
that  there  is  a  duplicate  man,  or  soul,  that  wanders  off  from  the  body : 
hence  the  belief  that  the  dead  survive.2  Naturally  they  become  objects 
of  reverence.  So  worship  begins.  Epilepsy,  insanity,  and  the  like 
confirm  the  notion  that  ghosts  come  and  go.  A  human  personality, 
it  is  held,  is  behind  a  tempest,  an  earthquake,  and  every  unusual 
phenomenon.  Temples  were  first  the  tombs  of  the  dead.  'Fetiches 
were  parts  of  their  clothing.  Idols  were  their  images.  The  belief 
somehow  arises  that  human  beings  disguise  themselves  as  animals. 

1  The  Principles  of  Sociology ,  vol.  i.  ch.  viii.  seq. 

2  First  Principles,  4th  ed.,  p.  31. 


390 


APPENDIX 


Animal-worship  is  explained,  in  part,  in  this  way,  but  mainly  by  a 
blunder  of  “  the  primitive  man.”  There  was  a  dearth  of  names  ;  human 
beings  were  named  after  beasts  ;  gradually  the  notion  springs  up  that 
the  animal  who  gave  the  name  was  the  parent  of  the  family.  Plants 
with  strange  intoxicating  qualities  are  assumed  to  be  inhabited  by 
ghosts.  Plant-worship  is  the  result. 

Spencer,  at  the  outset,  in  his  First  Principles ,  favored  the  idea  that 
religion  sprang  out  of  a  mistaken  application  of  the  causal  principle 
to  the  explanation  of  nature  and  of  man.  The  later  theory  sketched 
above  is  what  he  conceives  that  the  evolution-doctrine  demands.  He 
differs,  as  will  be  perceived,  from  the  archaeologists  who  make  religion 
start  with  fetichism.  He  frowns  upon  those  evolutionists  who  allow, 
what  they,  like  most  scholars,  feel  compelled  to  hold,  that  among  the 
Aryans  and  Semites  religion  cannot  be  traced  back  to  ancestor-worship. 
Such  evolutionists,  Mr.  Spencer  observes,  are  not  loyal  to  their  theory.1 
The  circumstance  that  they  cannot  find  facts  to  sustain  the  theory,  so 
far  as  these  branches  of  the  human  race  are  concerned,  ought  not  to 
be  allowed  to  shake  their  faith.  He  considers  his  opinion  as  the  proper 
tenet  of  agnostic  orthodoxy. 

The  ingenious  mode  iri  which  this  theory  is  wrought  out  scarcely 
avails  even  to  give  it  plausibility.  The  mythical  sense  attached  to 
names  of  animals  and  things  inanimate  is  not  made  a  characteristic  of 
an  earlier  stage  of  intelligence,  but  of  stages  of  a  later  date.  The  transi¬ 
tions  from  point  to  point,  especially  from  the  lower  to  the  higher  types 
of  religion,  have  an  artificial  aspect.  The  resort  for  evidence  is  not  to 
history,  the  source  whence,  if  anywhere,  satisfactory  evidence  should  be 
derived.  The  proofs  are  ethnographic.  They  consist  of  scraps  of  infor¬ 
mation  respecting  scattered  tribes  of  savages,  mostly  tribes  which  now 
exist.  In  this  way  phenomena  may,  no  doubt,  be  collected,  which  lend 
some  support  to  the  speculation  about  shadows,  dreams,  and  ghosts. 
But  a  generalization  respecting  savage  races  cannot  be  safely  made  from 
miscellaneous  data  of  this  sort.  That  “  the  primitive  man  ”  was  a  savage 
is  an  assumption  made  at  the  outset.  That  he  was  unlearned,  uncivil¬ 
ized,  is  one  thing.  That  he  was  a  fool,  that  he  was  not  much  above  the 
brute,  is  an  unverified  assertion.  Degeneracy  is  not  only  a  possible  fact, 
it  is  a  fact  which  history  and  observation  prove  to  have  been  actual  in 
the  case  of  certain  peoples.  The  worship  of  the  objects  of  nature,  as 
far  as  can  be  ascertained,  was  not  as  a  rule  preceded  by  the  worship  of 
ancestors.  It  is  a  false  analogy  which  Mr.  Spencer  adduces  from  the 
worship  of  saints  in  the  Church.  This  practice  did  not  precede  the 
worship  of  God ;  primitive  Christianity  did  not  come  after  medieval. 

It  is  a  fatal  difficulty  in  the  way  of  the  dream-  and  ghost-theory, 
as  anything  more  than  a  partial  and  limited  account  of  the  genesis  of  the 

1  The  Principles  of  Sociology ,  vol.  i.  p.  313. 


APPENDIX 


391 


religions,  that  it  is  not  sustained,  but  is  confuted,  by  historical  investi¬ 
gation.  The  most  prominent  gods  of  India  were,  in  the  most  ancient 
records,  personified  natural  phenomena.1  This  is  true  of  the  sky-gods. 
The  sky-father,  or  father-sky,  is  not  only  preserved  in  India,  but  also  in 
the  religions  of  Greece  and  Rome,  where  Zeus  and  Jupiter  are  transferred 
from  his  Indian  name.  There  were  ghost-demons  and  ghost-gods,  but 
there  were  also  invisible  spirits  which  were  distinguished  from  them, 
and  deities  under  various  categories  having  no  relationship  to  them, 
either  of  descent  or  of  transference. 

In  explaining  the  rise  of  religion,  one  would  expect  Mr.  Spencer  to 
say  something  of  the  great  founders  whose  teaching  has  been  so  potent 
that  eras  are  dated  from  them,  and  multitudes  of  men  for  ages  have 
enrolled  themselves  among  their  disciples.  One  would  think  that  Con¬ 
fucius,  Buddha,  Mohammed,  with  whatever  of  peculiar  illumination  each 
possessed,  should  be  counted  among  the  powerful  agencies  concerned  in 
developing  the  religions  of  mankind.  But  the  evolution  doctrine,  in  the 
phase  of  it  which  Mr.  Spencer  advocates,  is  cut  off  from  doing  justice 
to  the  influence  of  individuals.  If  religion  had  no  deeper  roots  than  are 
assigned  to  it  in  Mr.  Spencer’s  theory,  it  could  never  have  gained,  much 
less  have  maintained,  its  hold  upon  men.  The  offspring,  at  every  step, 
of  error  and  delusion,  it  would  have  been  short-lived.  Mr.  Spencer  has 
presented  valuable  suggestions  in  the  study  of  the  origin  of  supersti¬ 
tions  ;  but  his  view  as  a  whole  is  a  signal  instance  of  the  consequences 
of  adhesion  to  a  metaphysical  theory,  with  only  a  partial  survey  of  facts, 
and  a  failure  to  penetrate  to  the  deeper  principles  of  human  nature. 
Even  as  an  acconnt  of  the  genesis  of  certain  superstitions,  his  theory 
needs  to  bring  in  as  one  element  a  sense  of  the  supernatural,  a  yearning 
for  a  higher  communion. 

There  is  a  wide  interval  between  hypotheses  of  the  character  noticed 
above  and  the  more  elevated  theory  that  religion  arises  from  the  percep¬ 
tion  of  marks  of  design  in  nature.  But  even  this  falls  short  of  being  a 
satisfactory  solution  of  the  problem.  Not  to  dwell  on  the  facts,  that  the 
adaptations  of  nature  impress  different  minds  with  unequal  degrees  of 
force,  and  that  of  themselves  they  fail  to  exhibit  the  infinitude  and  the 
moral  attributes  of  deity,  it  is  evident  that  the  phenomena  of  religion 
require  us  to  assume  a  profounder  and  more  spiritual  source  to  account 
for  them.  This  must  be  found  in  deeper  perceptions  and  aspirations 
within  the  human  soul. 

A  capital  defect  in  many  of  the  hypotheses  broached  to  account  for  the 

1  Professor  Edward  Hopkins,  India  Old  and  New,  pp.  93  seq.  This  is  a  late 
as  well  as  thorough  exposition  of  the  subject.  Sir  Henry  Maine,  who  recog¬ 
nizes  the  prevalence  of  ancestor-worship,  remarks  that  the  theory  attached  to 
it  “  has  been  made  to  account  for  more  than  it  will  readily  explain.”  —  Sir 
Henry  Maine,  Dissertations  on  Early  Lazo  and  Custom ,  vol.  i.  p.  69. 


392 


APPENDIX 


origin  of  religion  is  that  they  make  it  the  fruit  of  an  intellectual  curi¬ 
osity.  It  is  regarded  as  being  the  product  of  an  attempt  to  account  for 
the  world  as  it  presents  itself  before  the  human  intelligence.  It  is  true 
that  religion  as  a  practical  experience  contains  an  ingredient  of  knowl¬ 
edge  ;  yet  it  is  a  great  mistake  to  regard  the  intellectual  or  scientific 
tendency  as  the  main  root  of  religious  faith  and  devotion.  Belief  in 
God  does  not  lie  at  the  end  of  a  path  of  inquiry  of  which  the  motive  is 
the  desire  to  explore  the  causes  of  things.  It  arises  in  the  soul  in  a 
more  spontaneous  way,  and  in  a  form  in  which  feeling  plays  a  more 
prominent  part.  u  Those  who  lay  exclusive  stress  on  the  proof  of  the 
existence  of  God  from  the  marks  of  design  in  the  world,  or  from  the 
necessity  of  supposing  a  first  cause  for  all  phenomena,  overlook  the  fact 
that  man  learns  to  pray  before  he  learns  to  reason ;  that  he  feels  within 
him  the  consciousness  of  a  supreme  being  and  the  instinct  of  worship 
before  he  can  argue  from  effects  to  causes,  or  estimate  the  traces  of  wis¬ 
dom  and  benevolence  scattered  through  the  creation.”  1 

In  connection  with  the  foregoing  observations  a  few  additional 
remarks  on  the  nature  and  origin  of  myths  will  not  be  out  of  place. 
A  myth  is,  in  form,  a  narrative,  resembling  in  this  respect  the  fable, 
parable,  and  allegory.  But,  unlike  these,  the  idea  or  feeling  from  which 
the  myth  springs,  and  which,  in  a  sense,  it  embodies,  is  not  reflectively 
distinguished  from  the  narrative,  but  rather  is  blended  with  it ;  the 
latter  being,  as  it  were,  the  native  form  in  which  the  idea  or  sentiment 
spontaneously  arises.  Moreover,  there  is  no  consciousness  on  the 
part  of  those  from  whom  the  myth  emanates  that  this  product  of  their 
fancy  and  feeling  is  fictitious.  The  fable  is  a  fictitious  story,  contrived 
to  inculcate  a  moral.  So  the  parable  is  a  similitude  framed  for  the 
express  purpose  of  representing  abstract  truth  to  the  imagination. 
Both  fable  and  parable  are  the  result  of  conscious  invention.  In  both, 
the  symbolical  character  of  the  narrative  is  distinctly  recognized. 
From  the  myth,  on  the  contrary,  the  element  of  deliberation  is  utterly 
absent.  There  is  no  questioning  of  its  reality,  no  criticism  or  inquiry 
on  the  point,  but  the  most  simple,  unreflecting  faith.  A  like  habit 
of  feeling  we  find  in  children,  who,  delighting  in  narrative,  improvise 
narrative.  It  is  difficult  for  us  to  realize  that  childlike  condition  of 
mind  which  belonged  to  the  early  age  of  nations,  when  the  creations 
of  personifying  sentiment  and  fancy  were  endued,  in  the  faith  of  those 
from  whom  they  sprang, \yvith  this  unquestioned  reality.  It  is  almost 
as  difficult  as  to  reproduce  those  states  of  mind  in  which  the  funda¬ 
mental  peculiarities  of  language  germinate :  peculiarities  in  respect  to 
which  the  philological  explorer  can  only  say  that  so  mankind  in  their 
infancy  looked  upon  things  and  actions.  But  there  is  no  doubt  as  to 
the  fact  that  the  mythologies  had  this  character.  They  are  frequently, 


1  Mansel,  The  Limits  of  Religions  Thought ,  p.  115. 


APPENDIX 


393 


—  at  least  they  were,  —  the  pure  creation  of  the  mythopceic  faculty ; 
the  incarnated  faith  and  feeling  of  a  primitive  age,  when  scientific 
reflection  had  not  yet  set  bounds  to  fancy.  Science  brought  reflection. 
The  attempt  of  Euemerus  to  clear  early  mythical  tales  of  improbabilities 
and  incongruities,  and  to  find  at  the  bottom  a  residuum  of  veritable 
history,  and  the  attempts  of  both  physical  and  moral  philosophers 
to  elicit  from  them  an  allegorical  sense,  are,  one  and  all,  the  fruit  of  that 
scepticism  which  culture  brought  with  it,  and  proceed  upon  a  totally 
false  view  of  the  manner  in  which  the  myths  originate.  When  these 
theories  came  up,  the  spell  of  the  old  faith  was  already  broken.  They 
are  the  efforts  of  rationalism  to  keep  up  some  attachment  to  obsolete 
beliefs,  or  to  save  itself  from  conscious  irreverence  or  popular  dis¬ 
pleasure.  A  state  of  mind  had  arisen  wholly  different  from  that  which 
prevailed  in  the  credulous,  unreflecting,  childlike  period,  when  a  com¬ 
mon  fear  or  faith  embodied  itself  spontaneously  in  a  fiction  which  was 
artlessly  taken  for  fact.1 

As  we  have  implied,  back  of  the  authentic  history  of  most  nations 
lies  a  mythical  era.  And  whenever  the  requisite  conditions  are  present, 
the  mythopoeic  instinct  is  active.  The  middle  ages  furnish  a  striking 
example.  The  fountain  of  sentiment  and  fancy  in  the  uncultured 

1  K.  O.  Muller’s  Prolegomena  zu  einer  wissenschaftlichen  Mythologie  (1825) 
did  much  to  open  the  way  to  an  understanding  of  the  true  nature  of  the 
myth.  The  lectures  of  Schelling  on  the  Introduction  to  Mythology  (see 
Schelling’s  Sdmmtliche  Werke,  II.  Abth.  i.)  still  retain  their  value  as  an  able 
and  elaborate  discussion.  Schelling  examines  at  length  the  various  theories 
which  have  been  proposed  to  account  for  the  origin  of  mythology,  including 
those  of  Heyne,  Hermann,  Hume,  Voss,  Creuzer,  and  others.  He  disproves 
all  the  irreligious  hypotheses  and  expounds  in  an  interesting  and  profound 
way  his  own  view,  which  is  the  same  in  spirit  as  that  of  Muller,  although  the 
latter,  in  the  opinion  of  Schelling  (p.  199),  has  not  applied  his  theory  to 
the  first  origination  of  the  conceptions  of  the  gods,  but  rather  to  their  mytho¬ 
logical  doings  —  the  mythological  history.  Schelling  applauds  the  remarks 
of  Coleridge  on  this  subject,  and  says  that  he  gives  the  latter  a  dispensation 
for  the  alleged  free  borrowing  from  his  writings,  in  return  for  the  single  word 
which  Coleridge  has  suggested  as  a  proper  description  of  myths.  They  are 
not  alle gorical,  says  Coleridge,  but  iauteg orical.  Schelling  maintains  that 
the  primitive  religion  of  mankind  was  “  relative  monotheism,”  that  is,  the 
worship  of  one  God  who  is  not  known  in  his  absolute  character.  Thence 
polytheism  arose,  so  that  this  one  God  was  only  the  first  of  a  series. 

Among  the  expositions  of  the  general  subject,  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth 
chapters  of  the  first  volume  of  Grote’s  History  of  Greece  have  not  lost  their 
interest.  Mr.  Grote  shows  the  spontaneity  that  characterizes  the  origin 
of  myths.  In  some  important  respects  his  view  is  defective.  No  theory 
is  complete  which  omits  to  take  account  of  the  religious  nature  of  man  and 
his  aspirations  after  communion  with  God. 


394 


APPENDIX 


nations  of  Europe  divaricated,  so  to  speak,  into  two  channels,  —  the 
religious  myth  and  the  myth  of  chivalry.  When  we  have  eliminated 
from  the  immense  mass  of  legendary  history  which  forms  the  lives 
of  the  saints  what  is  due  to  pious  frauds  (though  these  presuppose  a 
ready  faith),  and  what  is  historical,  being  due  to  morbid  or  otherwise 
extraordinary  psychological  states,  and,  if  the  reader  so  pleases,  to 
miracle,  there  still  remain  a  multitude  of  narratives  involving  super¬ 
natural  events,  which  last  have  no  foundation  whatever  in  fact,  but 
were  yet  thoroughly  believed  by  those  from  whose  fancy,  enlivened  and 
swayed  by  religious  sentiment,  they  emanated. 

NOTE  2  (p.  49) 

Commenting  on  Paley’s  illustration  of  the  watch,  Huxley,  in  his  Lay 
Sermons ,  writes  as  follows  :  — 

“  Suppose  only  that  one  had  been  able  to  show  that  the  watch  had 
not  been  made  directly  by  any  person,  but  that  it  was  the  result  of  the 
modification  of  another  watch,  which  kept  time  but  poorly ;  and  that 
this  again  had  proceeded  from  a  structure  which  could  hardly  be  called 
a  watch  at  all,  seeing  that  it  had  no  figures  on  the  dial  and  the  hands 
were  rudimentary ;  and  that,  going  back  and  back,  in  time  we  came  at 
last  to  a  revolving  barrel  as  the  earliest  traceable  rudiment  of  the  whole 
fabric.  And  imagine  that  all  these  changes  had  resulted,  first,  from 
a  tendency  of  the  structure  to  vary  indefinitely,  and,  secondly,  from 
something  in  the  surrounding  world  which  helped  all  variations  in  the 
direction  of  an  accurate  time-keeper,  and  checked  all  these  in  other 
directions,  and  then  it  is  obvious  that  the  force  of  Paley’s  argument 
would  be  gone ;  for  it  would  be  demonstrated  that  an  apparatus  thor¬ 
oughly  well  adapted  to  a  particular  purpose  might  be  the  result  of  a 
method  of  trial  and  error  worked  by  unintelligent  agents,  as  well  as  of 
the  direct  application  of  the  means  appropriate  to  that  end.”1 

Here  we  have  the  supposition  of  indefinite  variation,  which  Huxley 
himself,  as  we  shall  see,  is  not  prepared  to  affirm.  Not  to  dwell  on  this 
point,  we  have,  in  the  case  supposed,  “  a  revolving  barrel  ”  at  one  end 
of  the  line  and  a  watch  with  its  complex  apparatus,  by  which  it  is  fitted 
to  record  time,  at  the  other.  At  the  outset  the  barrel,  with  its  inherent 
capacities,  requires  to  be  accounted  for,  in  connection  with  that  some¬ 
thing  which  tends  to  one  or  another  diverging  path.  The  “surrounding 
world”  is  not  outside  of  the  system  of  things  to  which  the  production 
of  the  watch  is  due.  The  actual  end  evinces  that  “  the  means  appro¬ 
priate  to  that  end  took  part  in  it.”  The  passage  in  the  text  (p.  49) 
which  is  cited  from  Huxley  exposes  the  fallacy  of  the  foregoing  para¬ 
graph.  As  to  a  tendency  to  indefinite  variation,  see  above  in  this  work, 
pp.  51  seq. 


1  Lay  Sermons ,  pp.  330,  331. 


APPENDIX 


395 


In  his  interesting  book  on  the  crayfish,  Huxley  says :  — 

“  Under  one  aspect  the  result  of  the  search  after  the  rationale  of 
animal  structure  thus”  —  i.e.  by  the  discovery  in  animals  of  arrange¬ 
ments  by  which  results,  of  a  kind  similar  to  those  which  their  [men’s] 
own  ingenuity  effects  through  mechanical  contrivances,  are  brought 
about  —  “is  Teleology ,  or  the  doctrine  of  adaptation  to  purpose.  Under 
another  aspect  it  is  Physiology  P1 

“  The  body  of  the  animal  [the  crayfish]  may  be  regarded  as  a  factory, 
provided  with  various  pieces  of  machinery,  by  means  of  which,”  etc., 
.  .  .  “  to  which  material  particles  converge  .  .  .  from  which  they  are 
afterward  expelled  in  new  combinations”  (p.  84). 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  differences  between  “  the  living  factory 
and  those  which  we  construct  ”  is  that  “  it  not  only  enlarges  itself, 
but,  as  we  have  seen,  it  is  capable  of  executing  its  own  repairs  to  a  very 
considerable  extent.”2 

“  If  all  that  we  know  concerning  the  purpose  of  a  mechanism  is 
derived  from  observation  of  the  manner  in  which  it  acts,  it  is  all  one 
whether  we  say  that  the  properties  and  the  connections  of  its  parts 
account  for  its  actions,  or  that  its  structure  is  adapted  to  the  perform¬ 
ance  of  those  actions.”3 

If  the  terms  are  given  their  proper  significance  in  the  foregoing 
extracts,  their  purport  is  theistic. 

Happily  we  have  statements  of  Huxley  which  imply  something  above 
mechanical  agencies,  and,  especially  in  later  utterances,  ethical  proposi¬ 
tions  occur  which  are  not  consistent  with  agnostic  denials  that  leave 
no  room  for  freedom  and  responsibility.  In  the  Lay  Sermons  is  the 
comparison  of  life  to  a  game  of  chess.  “  The  calm,  strong  angel,”  who 
is  the  player  on  the  right  side,  “pays  the  highest  strikes  with  overflow¬ 
ing  generosity,”  and  “would  rather  lose  than  win.”4  In  the  Lecture 
on  Descartes  it  is  said  of  those  who  hold  that  there  is  nothing  in  the 
world  but  matter  and  force  and  necessary  laws,  “  I  decline  to  follow 
them.”  “  Laws  and  moral  precepts,”  Huxley  affirms,  “  are  directed  to 
the  end  of  curbing  the  cosmic  process  and  reminding  the  individual 
of  his  duty  to  the  community.”  “Goodness  or  virtue  demands  self- 
restraint.”  Still  more  significant  in  the  right  direction  are  expressions 
in  the  Romanes  Lecture,  one  of  Huxley’s  latest  productions,  where, 
speaking  of  the  struggle  of  conscience  with  the  cosmic  forces,  he 
remarks  that  “  ethical  nature,  while  born  of  cosmic  nature,  is  neces¬ 
sarily  at  enmity  with  its  parent.”5 

The  change  from  the  position  of  Huxley,  as  expressed  in  the  declara¬ 
tion  that  “  it  is  utterly  impossible  ”  to  prove  “  that  anything  whatever 

1  The  Crayfish ,  etc.,  p.  47.  2  Ibid.,  p.  86.  3  Ibid.,  p.  137. 

4  Lay  Sermons,  Addresses,  etc.  (1871),  p.  31. 

5  See  Evolution  and  Ethics  and  Other  Essays  (1894),  pp.  81-85. 


396 


APPENDIX 


may  not  be  the  effect  of  a  material  and  necessary  cause,”  to  the  posi¬ 
tion  that  “  our  one  certainty  is  the  existence  of  the  mental  world,”  that 
necessity  is  not  a  physical  fact  but  an  u  empty  shadow  of  my  own 
mind’s  throwing,”  shows  a  leaning  no  longer  to  materialism  or  u  agnostic 
monism,”  but  to  spiritualism  and  a  “  duality  in  unity.”  It  is  not  the 
former  conception  of  man  as  a  conscious  automaton.1 2 

NOTE  3  (p.  50) 

Darwin  often  found  it  difficult  to  avoid  giving  way  to  the  evidences  of 
design  in  nature.  In  the  book  on  the  Fertilization  of  Orchids  is  this 
passage  (which  is  retained  in  the  Revised  Edition  (1877),  p.  351): 
“  The  more  I  study  nature,  the  more  I  become  impressed  with  ever 
increasing  force  with  the  conclusion  that  the  contrivances  and  beautiful 
adaptations  slowly  acquired  through  each  part  occasionally  varying  in  a 
slight  degree  but  in  many  ways,  with  the  preservation  or  natural  selec¬ 
tion  of  those  variations  which  are  beneficial  to  the  organism  under  the 
complex  and  ever  varying  conditions  of  life,  transcend  in  an  incompar¬ 
able  degree  the  contrivances  and  adaptations  which  the  most  fertile 
imagination  of  the  most  imaginative  man  could  suggest.”  When  the 
Duke  of  Argyll,  in  conversation,  referred  to  the  wonderful  contrivances 
for  certain  purposes  in  nature  which  Darwin  had  brought  out  in  this  and 
other  works,  Darwin  said  :  u  ‘  Well,  that  often  comes  over  me  with  over¬ 
whelming  force;  but  at  other  times,1”  and  he  shook  his  head  vaguely, 
adding,  “ i  it  seems  to  go  away.1 11  2 

Darwin’s  scepticism  respecting  final  causes  is  sometimes  associated 
with  the  interpretation  for  which  theology  is  in  some  degree  responsible, 
that  design  in  nature  is  solely  for  the  end  of  being  beneficial  to  man, 
or,  at  least,  exclusively  for  some  impression  upon  human  observers.  It 
is  interesting  to  notice  that  in  nature  he  was  ready  to  believe  in  the 
wisdom  of  a  contrivance  which  appeared  unwise.  Thus,  in  the  first 
edition  of  the  Fertilization  of  Orchids  (1862),  he  says  (p.  359)  :  “  It  is 
an  astonishing  fact  that  self-fertilization  should  not  have  been  an  habit¬ 
ual  occurrence.  It  apparently  demonstrates  to  us  that  there  must  be 
something  injurious  in  the  process.”  Later  (1877),  in  the  correspond¬ 
ing  paragraph  (p.  293),  he  explains  that  the  perplexity  is  removed  by 
the  discovery  of  the  good  effects  that  follow,  “  in  most  cases,  cross- 
fertilization,”  and  by  the  fact  that  he  had  proved  that  there  is  “  some¬ 
thing  injurious  11  in  the  process  of  self-fertilization.  In  reference  to  the 
fruits  of  design  in  nature,  on  the  whole,  Darwin  expresses  the  belief 

1  This  change  is  lucidly  demonstrated  by  Ward,  Naturalism  and  Agnos¬ 
ticism,  vol.  ii.  pp.  210  seq. 

2  Good  Words,  April,  1885;  quoted  in  Darwin’s  Life  and  Letters  (vol.  i. 
p.  285). 


APPENDIX 


397 


that  “  all  sentient  beings  have  been  formed  so  as  to  enjoy,  as  a  general 
rule,  happiness,”  and  that  “  all  sentient  beings  have  been  so  developed, 
through  natural  selection,  that  pleasurable  sensations  serve  as  their 
habitual  guides.”  1  Another  source  of  the  scepticism  which  prevented 
the  absolute  rejection  of  what  he  terms  “  the  intolerable  thought  that  he 
[man]  and  all  other  sentient  beings  are  doomed  to  complete  annihila¬ 
tion  after  such  long-continued  slow  progress,”  and  the  full  acceptance  of 
theism,  despite  “the  extreme  difficulty  or  rather  impossibility  of  con¬ 
ceiving  this  immense  and  wonderful  universe,  including  in  it  his  [man’s] 
capacity  of  looking  far  backwards  and  far  into  futurity,  as  the  result  of 
blind  chance  or  necessity,”  is  the  doubt,  the  “horrid  doubt”  as  he  calls 
it,  which,  to  use  his  own  words,  always  arises  whether  the  convictions 
of  man’s  mind,  which  has  been  developed  from  the  minds  of  lower 
animals,  are  of  any  value  or  at  all  trustworthy.”  2 

The  stumbling-block  was  the  question  whether  a  mind  having  such  an 
origin  is  competent  “to  draw  such  grand  conclusions.”  Of  course, 
scepticism  from  this  motive  would,  if  carried  out,  sap  the  founda¬ 
tions  of  our  beliefs  generally.  We  simply  follow  the  example  of  the 
sincere  and  noble  man  in  referring  to  what  he  styles  “  the  curious  and 
lamentable  loss  of  the  higher  aesthetic  taste,”  “  the  atrophy  of  that  part 
of  the  brain  alone  on  which  the  higher  tastes  depend.”  The  delight 
which  he  had  once  felt  in  poetry  and  music  and  fine  scenery  fades  out. 
“  The  loss  of  these  tastes,”  he  frankly  says,  “may  possibly  be  injurious 
to  the  intellect,  and  more  probably  to  the  moral  character.”  3  Along 
with  this  loss,  the  religious  sentiment,  which  had  once  been  deep  with 
“  higher  feelings  of  wonder,  admiration,  and  devotion,”  gradually  ceased 
to  be  felt.  He  might  be  said,  he  adds,  “  to  have  become  like  a  man 
who  has  become  color-blind,  if  faith  in  God  and  such  convictions  and 
feeling  were  universal,  like  the  perceptions  of  color.”4  It  is  fair  to  say 
that  religious  feelings  are  as  prevalent,  and  have  had  as  deep  a  root  in 
the  race,  as  are  the  class  of  feelings  which  Darwin  styles  aesthetic. 


NOTE  4  (p.  56) 


The  ancient  objection,  which  is  based  on  the  existence  of  evil,  to  the 
doctrine  of  theism  concerning  the  attributes  of  God  is  restated  by  Hume. 
Either  God  wills  to  prevent  evil,  but  cannot,  in  which  case  he  is  not 
omnipotent ;  or  he  can  prevent  evil,  but  will  not,  in  which  case  he  is 
not  benevolent ;  or  he  neither  can,  nor  wills,  to  prevent  evil,  in  which 
case  he  is  neither  omnipotent  nor  benevolent.  Theologians  in  times 
past  dwelt  on  the  benefits  resulting  from  that  double  manifestation,  of 


1  Life  and  Letters ,  pp.  279,  280. 

2  Lbid.,  pp.  282,  285. 


3  Lbid.,  pp.  81,  82. 

4  Lbid.,  p.  281. 


39§ 


APPENDIX 


which  moral  evil  furnishes  the  occasion,  of  both  the  justice  and  mercy 
of  God.  They  have  gone  so  far  as  to  propound  the  doctrine  that  it  is 
good  that  evil  should  exist,  so  far  as  it  actually  does  exist.  In  this 
class  of  theologians  belong  the  great  names  of  Augustine,  Aquinas,  and 
Calvin.  Leibnitz,  in  his  theodicy,  defends  the  thesis  that  the  freedom 
of  the  creaturely  will  and  the  consequent  possibility  of  sin  is  the  indis¬ 
pensable  condition  of  the  best  moral  system.  But  even  Leibnitz,  in  his 
thesis  that  this  is  the  best  of  all  possible  worlds,  stops  short  of  a  dis¬ 
tinct  discrimination,  without  which  the  vindication  of  theism  against 
the  old  objection  is  incomplete.  The  possible  inconsistency  of  an 
absolute  exclusion  of  evil  from  the  best  moral  system  by  the  interposi- 
tion  of  divine  power  is  one  thing ;  the  prevention  of  sin  by  the  right 
choices  of  those  guilty  of  it  is  another.  The  proposition,  therefore,  that 
in  any  instance  it  is  good  that  wrong  —  instead  of  right  —  exists,  i.e. 
that  sin  is  the  necessary  means  of  the  greatest  good,  is  unwarranted 
and  untenable.  The  mystery  that  invests  the  moral  system,  regarded 
as  universal,  and  the  precise  character  of  its  final  issues  render  adverse 
criticism  presumptuous,  especially  in  view  of  the  truth  that  no  moral 
being  can  fail  of  the  true  end  of  his  being  unless  through  his  own  per¬ 
sistent  choice  of  evil  instead  of  good.  The  problem  of  the  existence 
and  continuance  of  evil,  moral  and  physical,  is  discussed  in  a  sound  and 
lucid  manner  by  Dr.  A.  M.  Fairbairn,  in  The  Philosophy  of  the  Christian 
Religio?i  (1892).  Especially  worthy  of  attention  are  his  observations  on 
moral  and  physical  evil  as  “  organically  related  in  the  mind  of  him  who 
governs  nature  and  man’1  (pp.  163  seq.f  on  a  state  of  suffering,  not  one 
of  probation,  but  of  recovery  from  lapse,  the  last  word  and  not  Nature’s 
(pp.  166  seq.).  The  fact  of  evil,  moral  and  physical,  is  not  to  be  con¬ 
sidered  by  itself,  but  as  coupled  with  the  divine  purpose  of  redemption. 
So  far  as  life  is  a  probation,  it  is  an  incidental  circumstance,  not  a  chief 
end  in  the  divine  system. 


NOTE  5  (p.  66) 

“  Pantheism,  in  one  or  another  of  its  protean  forms,  is  a  way  of  think¬ 
ing  about  the  universe  that  has  proved  its  influence  over  millions  of 
minds.  ...  It  has  governed  the  religious  and  philosophical  thought 
of  India  for  ages.  Except  in  Palestine,  with  its  intense  Hebrew  con¬ 
sciousness  of  a  personal  God,  it  has  been  characteristic  of  Asiatic 
thought.  It  is  the  religious  philosophy  of  a  moiety  of  the  human  race. 
In  the  West  we  find  a  pantheistic  idea  at  work  in  different  degrees  of 
distinctness,  —  in  the  pre-Socratic  schools  of  Greece,  as  in  Parmenides  ; 
after  Socrates,  among  the  Stoics;  then  among  the  Neo-Platonists  of 
Alexandria,  with  Plotinus  in  ecstatic  elevation,  — a  signal  representative  ; 
again,  in  a  striking  form,  in  Scotus  Erigena,  who  startles  us  with  intrepid 
speculation  in  the  darkness  of  the  ninth  century,  the  least  philosophical 


APPENDIX 


399 


period  in  European  history ;  yet  again,  with  Bruno  as  its  herald,  after 
the  Renaissance  ;  and  in  the  seventeenth  century  the  speculative  thought 
of  Europe  culminated  in  Spinoza’s  articulated  pantheistic  unity  and 
necessity.  The  pantheistic  conception  was  uncongenial  to  the  spirit 
and  methods  of  the  eighteenth  century,  but  it  is  at  the  root  of  much 
present  religious  and  scientific  speculation  in  Europe  and  America.  It 
emerges  in  the  superconscious  intuition  of  Schelling :  it  has  affinities 
with  the  absolute  self-consciousness  of  the  Hegelian  :  it  is  implied  in 
the  Absolute  Will  and  the  Unconscious  Absolute  of  Schopenhauer  and 
Hartmann  in  Germany,  and  in  England  it  has  affinity  with  the  Unknow¬ 
able  Power  behind  phenomena  of  Herbert  Spencer.  .  .  .  Pantheistic 
science,  universal  nescience,  and  theistic  faith  are  three  ideals  now 
before  Europe  and  the  world,  with  some  educated  and  more  half-edu¬ 
cated  thoughts  oscillating  between  the  first  and  the  second.  Which  of 
these  three  is  the  most  reasonable  final  conception — the  fittest  for  man 
in  the  full  breadth  of  his  physical  and  spiritual  being?”1 


NOTE  6  (p.  82) 

Mr.  John  Fiske,  in  his  posthumous  publication,  The  Life  Everlasting 
(pp.  72  seq.),  refers  to  the  question,  “  Does  correlation  obtain  between 
physical  motions  and  conscious  feelings?”  He  says  that  when  he  first 
asked  Tyndal  the  question,  he  seemed  to  think  that  there  must  be  some 
such  correlation.  “  Herbert  Spencer  in  his  First  Principles  rather  cau¬ 
tiously  took  the  same  direction  and  tried  to  show  how  a  certain  amount 
of  motion  might  be  transformable  into  a  certain  amount  of  feeling.  .  .  . 
It  is  especially  worthy  of  note  that  in  the  final  edition  of  First  Prin¬ 
ciples,  published  in  the  year  1900,  and  in  Spencer’s  eighty-first,  he  goes 
very  far  toward  withdrawing  from  his  original  position.  In  my  Cosmic 
Philosophy ,  published  in  1874,  I  maintained  that  to  form  the  trans¬ 
formation  of  motion  into  feeling  or  feeling  into  motion  is  in  the  very 
nature  of  things  impossible.”  “  The  mass  of  activities  concentrated 
within  our  bodies  .  .  .  shows  us  a  closed  circle  which  is  entirely 
physical”  (p.  79). 

NOTE  7  (p.  83) 

u  Physical  science  is  the  discovery  in  nature  of  the  principles  and 
laws  of  reason  pervading  and  regulating  nature.  If  these  principles 
had  been  in  the  reason  of  man,  but  not  in  nature,  man  could  never 
have  put  them  into  nature,  nor  have  caused  nature  to  be  regulated 
by  them.  If  they  had  been  in  nature  and  not  in  the  reason  of  man, 
man  never  could  have  discovered  them  nor  formed  any  conception 

1  Professor  A.  C.  Fraser,  Philosophy  of  Theism ,  pp.  80,  81,  85. 


400 


APPENDIX 


of  them.  And  this  is  only  recognizing  from  a  new  point  of  view  the 
synthesis  of  phenomenon  and  noumenon,  which,  in  contrast  to  Kant’s 
antithesis  of  them,  I  have  already  shown  to  be  essential  to  all  rational 
intelligence.  An  intelligible  object  is  impossible  without  an  intelligent 
subject.  The  noumena,  or  necessary  principles  and  ideas  of  reason,  are 
the  unchanging  forms  in  which  reality  is  known  by  rational  intelligence. 
If  all  that  is  known  by  man  is  phenomenal  and  not  the  real  being, 
because  known  in  relation  to  his  mind,  and  the  noumenon  or  real 
being  is  out  of  this  relation  and  unknowable  by  man,  then  all  that 
is  known  by  any  mind  is  phenomenal  and  unreal  because  known  in 
relation  to  that  mind.  Thus  we  have  the  monstrous  absurdity  that 
noumena  exist  as  pure  objects  out  of  all  relation  to  all  and  every 
intelligent  mind,  that  is,  pure  objects  unintelligible  to  any  mind  and 
contrary  to  any  and  every  principle  of  reason.” 

.  .  .  “  Truth  has  no  significance  except  as  some  mind  is  its  subject; 
for  truth  is  the  intellectual  equivalent  of  reality.  There  can  be  no 
truth  or  law  without  a  mind,  as  there  can  be  no  perception  without  a 
percipient  and  no  thought  without  a  thinker.  We  only  delude  our¬ 
selves  by  hypostasizing  either  perceptions  or  thoughts  or  truths  as 
if  they  were  substantial  beings.  Truths  do  not  float  loose  about  the 
universe,  independent  of  mind.  But  in  the  development  of  man’s 
rational  constitution  he  finds  himself  having  knowledge  of  truths  which 
are  universal  and  regulative  of  all  his  thinking  which  transcends  his 
experience  and  condition  all  the  reality  which  comes  under  his  observa¬ 
tion.  There  must  be  a  supreme  reason  that  is  the  subject  and  source 
of  these  truths  and  in  that  reason  they  must  be  the  eternal  and 
archetypal  principles  of  all  that  begins  to  be.”  1 

.  .  .  “  These  principles  cannot  be  peculiar  to  an  individual.  I  know 
that  they  are  not  mine ;  I  have  not  created  them ;  I  cannot  change  them 
nor  set  them  aside.  They  must  be  principles  of  a  reason  above  and 
beyond  me,  a  reason  that  is  eternal,  universal,  and  supreme.  Nor  can 
they  have  originated  in  the  evolution  of  the  human  race.  If  they  were 
brought  into  human  consciousness  by  the  evolution  of  the  primitive 
man  through  many  generations,  yet  even  while  lying  germinal  and 
unconscious  in  his  undeveloped  constitution,  they  regulate  man’s 
development  itself  and  direct  it  in  its  long  progress  to  conscious 
rationality ;  they  also  regulate  the  corresponding  development  of  nature 
in  accordance  with  rational  laws,  and  to  the  realization  of  rational 
principles  and  ends.  They  cannot,  therefore,  have  originated  with  man, 
either  the  individual  or  the  race,  but  must  have  existed  before  the 
evolution  began,  in  a  reason  that  is  universal  and  supreme.”  2 

1  Dr.  Samuel  Harris,  Philosophical  Basis  of  Theism ,  p.  120. 

2  Harris,  Ibid.,  p.  145. 


APPENDIX 


401 


u  Even  if  our  categories  were  purely  subjective,  it  is  impossible  we 
should  ever  come  to  know  it ;  and  the  idea  of  a  world  of  things  in 
themselves,  apart  from  the  world  we  know,  may  easily  be  shown  to 
dissolve  in  contradictions.  A  world,  real  and  independent  of  the 
individual’s  transient  acts  of  knowledge,  is  not  a  world  divorced  from 
intelligence  altogether.  The  fact,  therefore,  that  a  category  lives 
subjectively  in  the  act  of  the  knowing  mind,  is  no  proof  that  the 
category  does  not  at  the  same  time  truly  express  the  nature  of  the 
reality  known.  It  would  be  so  only  if  we  suppose  the  knowing  subject 
to  stand  outside  of  the  real  universe  altogether,  and  to  come  to  inspect 
it  from  afar  with  mental  spectacles  of  a  foreign  make.  In  that  case, 
no  doubt,  the  forms  of  his  thought  might  be  a  distorting  medium.  But 
the  case  only  requires  to  be  stated  plainly  for  its  inherent  absurdity 
to  be  seen.  The  knower  is  in  the  world  which  he  comes  to  know,  and 
the  forms  of  his  thought,  so  far  from  being  an  alien  growth  or  an 
imported  product,  are  themselves  a  function  of  the  whole.  As  a  French 
writer  1  puts  it,  “  consciousness,  so  far  from  being  outside  reality,  is  the 
immediate  presence  of  reality  to  itself  and  the  inward  unrolling  of  its 
riches.”  When  this  is  once  grasped,  the  idea  of  thought  as  a  kind 
of  necessary  evil  —  Kant  really  treats  it  as  such  —  ceases  to  have  even 
a  superficial  plausibility.  Unless  we  consider  existence  a  bad  joke,  we 
have  no  option  save  tacitly  to  presuppose  the  harmony  of  the  sub¬ 
jective  function  with  the  nature  of  the  universe  from  which  it  springs.”  2 

NOTE  8  (p.  86) 

The  corner-stone  of  the  system  of  Matthew  Arnold,  if  system  it 
could  be  called,  is  a  conception  of  God  which  he  not  only  regards 
as  true,  and  evidently  true,  but  even  identifies  with  the  biblical  idea 
respecting  this  fundamental  point.  His  theory  may  be  termed  an 
unscientific  Pantheism ;  or  perhaps,  inasmuch  as  he  does  not  profess 
to  exhaust  the  conception  of  the  Deity  by  his  definition,  an  Agnostic 
Pantheism.  In  Literature  and  Dogma,  with  much,  although  it  can 
scarcely  be  said  with  wearisome,  iteration  he  explains  that  the  equivalent 
of  God  is  “  the  Power,  not  ourselves,  that  makes  for  righteousness.” 
One  would  suppose  that  we  have  here  a  distinct  expression  of  what, 
not  lettered  persons  alone,  but  the  world  at  large  as  well,  mean  by 
11  cause,”  and  designate  by  this  name.  But  no!  our  author  warns  us 
that  such  notions  belong  to  u  metaphysics,”  and  were  quite  foreign 
to  the  simple  Israelites.  Moreover,  we  ourselves  run  off  into  specula¬ 
tion  the  moment  we  talk  of  them.  There  is  a  Power,  a  Power  exerting 
itself,  or  being  exerted,  a  Power  exerting  itself  for  a  particular  end,  or 
producing  a  definite  effect ;  yet  it  must  not  be  denominated  a  “  cause.” 

1  M.  Fouillee,  in  his  Id  £vol utio n n ism e  des  Idees-forces. 

2  A.  Seth,  Ten  Lectures  on  Theism ,  pp.  18,  19. 

2D 


402 


APPENDIX 


Most  people,  whether  simple  or  not,  would  be  moved  to  ask  what 
more  precise  description  of  cause  and  causal  agency  could  be  given 
than  is  involved  in  this  favorite  phrase  of  Arnold.  In  his  second 
work,  God  and  the  Bible ,  he  makes  an  elaborate  effort  to  explain 
his  remarkable  definition  of  God,  and  the  Israelites’  conception  of 
him,  and  to  rule  out  the  idea  that  under  the  “  Power,  not  ourselves,” 
there  is  included  the  notion  of  a  being.  In  this  latter  work  we  are 
told  that  we  must  not  think  of  “  the  Power  that  makes  for  righteous¬ 
ness  ”  as  inhering  in  a  subject,  —  this  is  a  misconception  ;  it  is  anthropo¬ 
morphic.  Is  all  that  is  meant,  then,  that  righteousness  is  observed,  or 
is  believed,  to  be  followed  by  blessedness?  Is  there  nothing  but  the 
bare  fact  of  a  succession  of  consequent  to  antecedent,  after  the  manner 
of  Hume’s  theory  of  causation?  More  than  this  is  intended.  There 
is  an  “operation”  which  yields  this  result.  Things  are  so  constituted 
that  the  supposed  effect  is  produced.  It  is  a  “  law  of  nature  ”  like  the 
law  of  gravitation.  It  is  a  “  stream  of  tendency.”  When  we  speak, 
and  when  the  Israelites  spoke,  of  the  “  Power  that  makes  for  righteous¬ 
ness  ”  as  “  eternal,”  all  that  is  really  meant  is  that  righteousness  always 
was  and  always  will  be  attended  with  blessing.  Arnold  does  not  seem 
to  be  aware  that  in  trying  to  fence  off  the  conception  of  being  as  con¬ 
nected  with  the  “  Power,  not  ourselves,”  he  does  not  succeed  in  escaping 
from  what  he  styles  “metaphysics.”  There  is  an  “operation”  left; 
there  is  “  a  perceived  energy.”  The  doctrine  is  simply  this  :  that  the 
world  —  things  collectively  taken  —  is  such  that  a  certain  result, 
namely,  blessedness,  is  sure  to  be  worked  out  by  the  practice  of  right¬ 
eousness.  It  falls  short  of  being  a  dogmatic  Pantheism  by  the  added 
statement  that  we  cannot  “  pretend  to  know  the  origin  and  composition 
of  the  Power”  in  question;  we  cannot  say  that  it  is  a  person  or  thing. 
In  one  place  Arnold  professes  that  he  will  not  deny  that  “  the  Power  ” 
is  “a  conscious  intelligence.”  But  ordinarily  he  treats  the  conception 
that  his  “Power”  is  intelligent  as  pure  anthropomorphism.  If  it  be 
this,  why  admit  it  even  as  a  possibility?  If  Arnold  had  pondered  the 
subject  more  deeply,  he  might  have  perceived  that  the  idea  of  person¬ 
ality,  when  connected  with  the  conception  of  God,  involves  no  philo¬ 
sophical  difficulty.  If  by  anthropomorphism  is  meant  the  limiting 
of  God,  or  making  him  finite,  no  such  consequence  follows  from 
personality. 

It  is  interesting  to  inquire  what  becomes  of  devotion,  of  what  men 
have  always  meant  by  prayer  and  communion  with  God,  when  God 
is  made  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  law  of  things,  “a  stream  of  ten¬ 
dency.”  In  a  foot-note  Arnold  gives  the  following  answer  :  “  All  good 
and  fruitful  prayer,  however  men  may  describe  it,  is  at  bottom  nothing 
else  than  an  energy  of  aspiration  towards  the  Eternal,  not  ourselves, 
that  makes  for  righteousness,  —  of  aspiration  towards  it  and  cooperation 
with  it.”  The  Eternal,  it  must  be  remembered,  which  is  referred  to  by 


APPENDIX 


403 


the  use  of  the  pronoun  it,  signifies  no  being,  —  this  is  expressly  dis¬ 
claimed.  “  It,”  “the  Eternal,”  is  the  fact  that  “righteousness  was 
salvation,”  and  will  “  go  on  being  salvation.”  “  It,”  “  the  Eternal,” 
is  the  experienced  and  expected  conjunction  of  these  two  things. 
What  aspiration  towards  “  it,”  and  co-operation  with  “  it  ”  denote,  and 
with  what  propriety  either  of  these  or  both  together  can  be  taken  to 
signify  prayer,  in  particular  supplication  which  has  always  been  held  to 
be  the  prime  essential  in  prayer,  we  are  left  to  conjecture. 

Considering  the  tendencies  of  the  time  in  the  direction  of  Pantheistic 
thought,  it  is  not  a  matter  for  surprise  that  Arnold  should  bring  forward 
the  notion  of  an  impersonal  divinity.  There  is,  however,  some  reason 
for  astonishment  that  he  should  present  his  conception  as  the  kernel 
of  the  Israelites1  faith,  the  living  God  of  whom  the  Prophets  spoke,  and 
in  praise  of  whose  perfection  the  Psalms  were  composed.  He  admits, 
to  be  sure,  that  the  Hebrews  personified,  and  could  not  but  personify, 
“  the  Stream  of  tendency.”  Surely  it  is  nothing  short  of  an  amazing 
error  to  regard  the  personal  qualities  which  the  Hebrews  attached 
to  God  as  an  accidental  and  separable  element  in  their  faith.  Take 
away  the  personality  of  God,  and  what  basis  would  have  remained  for 
that  living  communion  with  him,  that  joy  in  him,  which  formed  the 
life  and  soul  of  the  Hebrew  religion?  Substitute  the  vague  abstrac¬ 
tions  which  make  up  this  Pantheistic  definition  of  deity  for  the  desig¬ 
nations  of  God  in  the  Prophets  and  the  Psalms,  and  the  frigidity 
and  almost  ludicrous  emptiness  that  remain,  fairly  exhibit  the  Hebrew 
religion  as  it  would  have  been  if  its  essential  contents  had  accorded 
with  our  author’s  idea  of  it.  Not  even  an  intuition  is  allowed  them 
of  this  imaginary  divinity,  the  connection  of  righteousness  with  hap¬ 
piness,  but  their  knowledge  of  “  it  ”  is  described  as  empirical ;  it  is 
something  found  out  by  experience.  “  From  all  they  could  themselves 
make  out,  and  from  all  that  their  fathers  had  told  them,”  they  arrived 
at  the  conclusion  that  righteousness  was  the  way  to  happiness.  The 
truth  is  that  in  the  Hebrew  mind  righteousness  was  infinitely  more 
than  a  perceived  condition  of  being  happy.  It  was  a  requirement  from 
without,  from  the  Holy  One.  Their  delight  was  in  him.  When  they 
failed  in  righteousness,  as  fail  they  did,  the  only  hope  of  happiness  was 
through  contrition  and  pardon  from  God. 


NOTE  9  (p.  93) 

To  illustrate  adequately,  with  the  emotions  connected  with  it,  the 
power  of  self-accusation,  and  to  show  its  prevalence,  would  require  a 
copious  volume.  Poetry  and  the  drama,  as  well  as  biographical  literature, 
offer  endless  materials.  This  is  true  if  every  departure  from  records 
marked  by  soundness  and  sanity  were  to  be  avoided.  Place  may  be 
given  to  a  single  instance.  Robert  Burns,  under  date  of  January,  1794, 


404 


APPENDIX 


having  given  way,  under  temptation,  to  unworthy  impulses  of  sensual 
feeling,  expresses  the  self-abasement  that  follows  in  the  words  :  “  Regret ! 
Remorse  !  Shame  !  Ye  three  hell-houndsAhat  ever  dog  my  steps  and 
bay  at  my  heels,”  etc.  Referring  to  the  same  occurrence  in  a  letter 
to  another  person,  under  date  of  February  25,  1794,  he  writes :  “  Canst 
thou  minister  to  a  mind  diseased?  Canst  thou  speak  peace  and  rest 
to  a  soul  tossed  on  a  sea  of  troubles,  without  one  friendly  star  to 
guide  her  course,  and  dreading  that  the  next  surge  may  overwhelm  her  ?  ” 
In  another  paragraph  of  the  same  letter  these  lines  occur  —  “senses  of 
the  mind,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  which  connect  us  with, 
and  link  us  to,  those  awful  obscure  realities  —  an  all-powerful  and  equally 
beneficent  God,  and  a  world  to  come,  beyond  death  and  the  grave.” 
These  lines  also  follow :  “  I  know  of  some  who  laugh  at  religion.  .  .  . 
Nor  would  I  quarrel  with  a  man  for  his  irreligion  any  more  than  I 
would  for  the  want  of  a  musical  ear.”  —  The  Works  of  Burns,  Douglas’s 
ed.,  1877-1879,  vol.  vi.  pp.  65,  1 18. 

NOTE  10  (p.  167) 

The  following  extracts  from  well-known  teachers  of  philosophy  ex¬ 
hibit  the  trend  of  psychical  science. 

“  The  one  fundamental  reality,  the  actual  Being  whose  characteristics 
are  recognized  by  the  categories,  whose  work  is  both  nature  considered 
as  the  system  of  material  things  and  also  all  the  spirits  of  men  consid¬ 
ered  in  their  historical  development,  is  the  Absolute  Self.  And  the 
innermost  essence  of  such  an  Absolute  Self  is  Spirit.  From  Spirit,  then, 
come  nature  and  all  spirits ;  and  in  dependence  on  this  Spirit  they  live 
and  develop.”  1 

The  essential  and  real  nature  of  matter,  in  the  full  significance  of  the 
word  “  Reality,”  is  to  be  known  only  in  terms  of  the  Life  of  the  Spirit. 
That  system  of  interrelated  beings  which  constitutes  the  world  as 
known  to  man  is  the  “  manifestation  under  the  present  conditions  of 
space  and  time,  of  an  infinite  and  eternal  spirit.”2 

“The  various  categories  whereby  realistic  thought  constructs  reality 
proved  to  be  the  bare  forms  of  intelligence,  projected  beyond  intelligence 
and  thereby  made  meaningless.  Being,  causality,  unity,  identity,  turned 
out  to  be  unintelligible  and  impossible  apart  from  intelligence.  It 
finally  appeared  that  the  world  of  things  can  be  defined  and  understood 
only  as  we  give  up  the  notion  of  an  extra-mental  reality  altogether  and 
make  the  entire  world  a  thought-world  ;  that  is,  a  world  that  exists  only 
through  and  in  relation  to  intelligence.  Mind  is  the  only  ontological 
reality.  Ideas  have  only  a  conceptual  reality.  Ideas  energized  by 

1  Professor  George  T.  Ladd,  A  Theory  of  Reality ,  pp.  458,  459. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  408. 


APPENDIX  405 

will  have  phenomenal  reality.  Besides  these  realities  there  is  no 
other.”  1 

“  Historically,  it  might  be  described  as  Kantianized  Berkeleianism. 
In  itself  it  might  be  called  phenomenalism,  as  indicating  that  the  outer 
world  has  only  phenomenal  reality.  It  might  also  be  called  objective 
idealism,  as  emphasizing  the  independence  of  the  object  of  individual 
subjectivity.  It  is  idealism  as  denying  all  extra-mental  existence  and 
making  the  world  of  objective  experience  a  thought-world  which  would 
have  neither  meaning  nor  possibility  apart  from  intelligence.  And  this 
is  the  conception  to  which  speculative  thought  is  fast  coming.  ...  In 
this  view  .  .  .  the  mechanical  and  materialistic  view  finds  a  recognition 
of  its  phenomenal  truth,  together  with  an  escape  from  its  essential  error.”  2 

“From  our  own  point  of  view  the  natural  has  its  source  and  abiding 
cause  in  the  fundamental  reality,  which  is  living  will  and  intelligence  ; 
and  physical  nature  is  throughout  only  the  form  and  product  of  its  im¬ 
manent  and  ceaseless  causality.  The  question  of  miracle,  then,  is  not 
a  question  of  natural  versus  supernatural,  nor  a  question  of  causality, 
but  only  a  question  of  the  phenomenal  relations  of  the  event  in  question. 
.  .  .  The  miracle  could  only  be  viewed  as  an  event  arriving  apart  from 
the  accustomed  order  and  defying  reduction  to  rule.”  3 

“  The  habit  of  looking  upon  nature  as  a  system  of  necessary  causality 
easily  leads  to  the  conception  that  all  phenomena  are  to  be  explained 
within  the  system  itself.  There  must  be  no  interferences  or  irruptions 
from  without  under  penalty  of  the  speculator’s  displeasure.”  4 

“  The  only  definition  of  nature  which  criticism  will  allow  is,  the  sum- 
total  and  system  of  phenomena  which  are  subject  to  law.  The  defini¬ 
tion  of  physical  nature  is,  the  sum-total  of  spatial  phenomena  and  their 
laws.  This  nature  is  throughout  effect,  and  contains  no  causation  and 
no  necessity  in  it.  .  .  .  But  when  nature  as  cause  is  posited  as  some 
blind  agent  or  agents,  it  represents  only  bad  metaphysics.”5 

The  Contentio  Veritatis,  etc.  (London,  1902),  in  the  opening 
chapter  (by  Rev.  N.  Rashdall)  on  “  The  Ultimate  Basis  of  Theism,” 
maintains  the  proposition  that  “things  cannot  be  conceived  of  as  exist¬ 
ing  by  themselves,”  that  “they  exist  only  for  mind”  and  cannot  exist 
“  apart  from  mind,”  but  they  exist  “  not  for  our  minds  only ;  yet  that 
things  have  an  objective  as  well  as  subjective  being,  and  that,  therefore, 
Universal  or  Divine  Mind  must  have  existed ;  that  the  argument  from 
causality  shows  God  as  willing  and  not  merely  thinking  the  universe. 

Mr.  Rashdall  holds  that  “psychical  research”  may  hereafter  extend 
farther  than  has  yet  been  the  fact  the  limits  of  what  may  be  regarded  as 
possible  in  the  category  of  events  which  have  been  denominated  mira¬ 
cles,  without  any  further  violation  of  the  laws  of  nature  than  is  implied 

1  Professor  Bowne,  Metaphysics,  pp.  422,  423.  2  Ibid.,  p.  423. 

3  Ibid.,  p.  202.  4  Ibid.,  p.  263.  5  Ibid.,  p.  262. 


40  6 


APPENDIX 


in  the  normal  action  of  the  human  will.  “Blit,”  it  is  added,  “there 
is  no  probability  that  it  will  ever  reverse  the  verdict  which  has  been 
passed  ‘  on  some  other  events  recorded  in  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.’  ” 

NOTE  ii  (p.  172) 

The  late  Professor  Huxley,  in  his  Lay  Sermons  and  in  his  Contro¬ 
versial  Papers,  set  forth  his  philosophical  opinions.  The  clever  inven¬ 
tion  of  the  term  “  Agnosticism  ”  is  due  to  him.  In  these  writings  he 
expressed  the  opinion  that  what  we  call  mind  is  a  collection  or  series  of 
sensations  standing  in  certain  relations  to  each  other,  and  that  this  is 
all  we  know  about  it.  That  there  is  a  thinking  agent,  such  as  men  gen¬ 
erally  suppose  to  exist  when  they  use  the  word  /,  there  is  no  proof. 
There  is  a  uniformity  of  succession  in  the  sensations  which  constitute 
the  soul,  as  far  as  we  know  anything  of  it  or  have  any  reason  to  assert 
anything  of  it ;  but  there  is  no  freedom  of  choice,  in  the  sense  that  the 
circumstances,  internal  and  external,  being  the  same,  any  different  deter¬ 
mination  of  the  will  from  that  which  actually  takes  place  is  possible. 
“  What  we  call  the  operations  of  the  mind,”  he  says,  “  are  functions  of 
the  brain,  and  the  materials  of  consciousness  are  products  of  cerebral 
activity.”  But  the  brain,  like  everything  else  that  is  alive,  is  developed 
from  protoplasm,  the  primitive  form  of  living  matter.  Huxley  avows 
that  we  have  no  explanation  of  the  way  in  which  life  may  have  origi¬ 
nated  from  inorganic  matter,  but  he  indicates  no  doubt  that  it  had  this 
origin.  The  reader  would  naturally  say  that  we  have  here  a  scheme  of 
bald  materialism.  But  this  imputation  is  repudiated.  He  insists  that 
we  have  no  knowledge  of  anything  but  the  heap  of  sensations,  impres¬ 
sions,  feeling,  —  or  by  whatever  name  they  may  be  called.  There  may 
be  a  real  something  without,  which  is  the  cause  of  all  our  impressions. 
In  that  case,  sensations  are  the  symbols  of  that  unknown  something. 
This  conclusion  Huxley  favors,  although  he  is  at  pains  to  declare  that 
idealism  is  unassailable  by  any  means  of  disproof  within  the  limits  of 
positive  knowledge.  The  inconvenience  is  attached  to  this  last  alter¬ 
native,  that  it  really  involves  the  giving  up  by  the  idealist  of  belief  in 
anybody,  as  well  as  anything,  outside  of  himself.  It  involves  the  doc¬ 
trine  which  metaphysicians  style  solipsism.  Professor  Huxley  affirms 
that  “  our  mental  conditions  are  simply  the  symbols  in  consciousness 
of  the  changes  that  take  place  automatically  in  the  organism,”  and  that 
“we  are  conscious  automata.”  Yet  in  another  place  he  is  equally  sure 
that  “  our  one  certainty  is  the  existence  of  the  mental  world  ;  ”  the  exist¬ 
ence  of  “  force  ”  and  “  matter  ”  is  nothing  more  than  “  a  highly  probable 
hypothesis.”  1  But  the  “  something  ”  of  which  the  brain  is  a  product  is 

1  Collected  Essays,  v ol.  ix.  p.  130.  For  a  searching  analysis  of  Huxley’s  con¬ 
ception  of  psycho-parallelism,  or  conscious  automatism,  see  Ward,  ATatnralism 
and  Agnosticism ,  vol.  ii.  p.  216.  The  oscillation  of  Huxley  between  a  (prac¬ 
tical)  materialism  and  solipsism  is  lucidly  exposed. 


APPENDIX 


407 


unintelligent ;  and  when  the  brain  dissolves,  there  is  nothing  to  prove 
that  the  phenomena  of  intelligence  continue.  There  is  no  proof  that 
the  soul,  that  is,  the  series  of  sensations,  does  not  come  to  an  end.  As 
to  the  existence  of  a  personal  God,  this  is  one  of  the  propositions  which 
are  incapable  of  being  established.  “  In  respect  to  the  existence  and 
attributes  of  the  soul,  as  of  those  of  the  Deity,”  says  Professor  Huxley, 
“  logic  is  powerless  and  reason  silent.”  As  regards  the  attributes  of 
God, — justice,  benevolence,  and  the  like,  —  he  indicates  no  dissent 
from  the  “searching  critical  negation”  of  Hume.  If  there  be  a  God, 
he  thinks  it  demonstrable  that  God  must  be  “  the  cause  of  all  evil  as 
well  as  all  good,”  —  a  conclusion  which  would  follow,  to  be  sure,  from 
the  tenet  that  man  is  not  a  personal  agent,  spontaneously  and  freely 
originating  his  voluntary  actions,  but  is  no  proper  adjunct  of  the  oppo¬ 
site  doctrine. 

In  his  book  on  Hume,  Professor  Huxley  refers  to  the  doctrines  and 
arguments  of  Bishop  Butler.  “  The  solid  sense  of  Butler,”  he  says, 
“left  the  Deism  of  the  Freethinkers  not  a  leg  to  stand  upon.”  But 
Hume,  he  intimates,  has  been  successful  where  they  failed.  Hume  does 
not  concede  what  the  Deists  admitted.  In  the  passage  which  Professor 
Huxley  cites  from  Hume’s  Inquiry  there  is  no  denial  of  a  supreme  gov¬ 
ernor  or  of  divine  providence.  Hume’s  position,  or  the  idea  which  he 
puts  into  the  mouth  of  the  Epicurean,  is  that  although  experience  shows 
that  a  virtuous  course  of  life  is  attended  with  happiness,  and  a  vicious 
course  of  life  with  misery,  yet  this  experience  affords  not  the  least  ground 
for  expecting  consequences  of  a  like  kind  after  life  is  over.  “Every 
argument,”  says  Hume,  “  deduced  from  causes  to  effects,  must  of  neces¬ 
sity  be  a  gross  sophism,  since  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  know  anything 
of  the  cause  but  what  you  have  antecedently  not  inferred,  but  described 
to  the  full,  in  the  effect.”  This  sweeping  statement  rests  on  the  baldest 
empiricism.  By  parity  of  reasoning,  if  we  cannot  go  an  inch  beyond 
what  we  have  seen,  we  should  have  to  say  of  a  man  who  in  a  long  course 
of  conduct  had  acted  justly,  that  we  cannot  infer  in  him  the  existence 
of  an  established  disposition  to  conform  to  the  dictates  of  justice  in  the 
future.  However,  Plume  illogically  admits  that  an  expectation  of  this 
character  is  valid  as  far  as  “  the  ordinary  course  of  events  is  concerned.” 
His  real  ground,  although  it  is  not  openly  stated,  is  that  we  have  no 
proof  of  a  future  state  of  being;  and  if  he  does  not  reject  the  belief  in 
a  supreme  governor,  and  in  divine  providence  as  active  in  the  present 
world,  his  silence  on  this  point  springs  merely  from  civility  or  reserve. 
But  it  is  only  necessary  to  step  out  of  the  prison  of  a  narrow  empiricism 
to  find  in  the  allotments  of  justice  here  evidence  enough  to  show  that 
there  is  a  just  God,  and  thus  to  warrant  the  presumption,  if  not  to  justify 
the  full  belief,  that  there  is  a  future  life  and  a  completion  there  of  a  sys¬ 
tem  begun  here,  but  not  carried  to  completion.  It  is  true  that  Butler’s 
arguments  in  the  Analogy  are  aimed  at  Deism,  and  not  at  Atheism,  or 


408 


APPENDIX 


Scepticism  as  to  the  essentials  of  natural  religion.  But  it  is  also  true 
that  his  arguments  go  farther  and  effect  more  than  he  directly  intended. 
This  he  himself  sees  and  asserts.  Whoever  will  candidly  read  his 
chapters  on  Natural  Government  and  Moral  Government  will  find  in 
them  evidence  which  points  to  the  conclusion  that  there  is  a  God,  that 
he  is  just,  and  that  there  is  a  probability  of  a  continuance  of  the  system 
of  rewards  and  punishments  in  a  life  beyond  this. 

Any  one  who  saw  the  Cologne  Cathedral  as  it  was  fifty  years  ago,  half 
built  and  with  a  crane  in  the  unfinished  tower,  would  have  had  no  doubt 
as  to  the  plan  of  the  structure  or  the  design  that  had  existed  to  realize 
it,  sooner  or  later.  What  would  have  been  said  of  an  onlooker  who 
should  have  denied  that  there  was  any  evidence  of  a  thought  or  an 
intention  in  the  contriver  of  the  edifice  to  do  anything  more  than  could 
then  and  there  be  seen? 


NOTE  12  (p.  231) 

The  use  of  the  “we”  begins  with  Paul’s  leaving  Troas  (xvi.  11),  and 
continues  in  the  account  of  his  stay  at  Philippi.  It  is  resumed  on  the 
return  of  Paul  to  Philippi  (xx.  5-15),  thus  raising  the  presumption  that 
the  author  of  these  passages  had  in  the  interval  tarried  at  that  place. 
The  remaining  passages  in  which  this  peculiarity  appears  are  xxi.  1— 1 8, 
xxvii.  i-xxviii.  17.  Now,  what  is  the  explanation  of  this  phenomenon? 
Only  two  hypotheses  are  open  to  discussion  among  those  who  accept 
the  ecclesiastical  tradition  and  ascribe  the  book  to  Luke.  The  first 
is  the  ancient  and  ordinary  view  that  Luke  was  himself,  in  these  places, 
the  attendant  of  Paul.  The  second  is  the  hypothesis  of  Schleiermacher, 
variously  modified  by  other  writers,  that  Luke  here  introduces,  without 
formal  notice,  a  document  emanating,  as  they  commonly  suppose,  from 
Timothy,  or,  as  some  have  thought,  from  Silas,  and  others  from  Titus. 
The  second  form  of  the  hypothesis,  that  Silas  wrote  the  passages  in 
question,  is  supported  by  no  argument  worthy  of  attention,  and  is  fully 
refuted  by  the  circumstance  that,  in  connection  with  at  least  one  of  the 
passages  (see  Acts  xvi.  19-25),  Silas  is  mentioned  in  the  third  person. 
But  the  theory  that  Timothy  is  the  author  of  these  passages,  although 
it  was  adopted  by  so  able  and  candid  a  writer  as  Bleek,  has  been,  as 
we  believe,  effectually  disproved.1  This  theory  does  not,  to  be  sure, 
militate  against  the  general  credibility  of  the  book,  or  the  fact  of  its 
being  composed  by  Luke.  But  how  stands  the  evidence  in  regard  to 
it?  We  read  (in  Acts  xx.  4,  5)  :  “And  there  accompanied  him  [Paul] 
into  Asia,  Sopater  of  Berea;  and  of  the  Thessalonians,  Aristarchus  and 
Secundus  ;  and  Gaius  of  Derbe,  and  Timotheus ;  and  of  Asia,  Tychicus 
and  Trophimus.  These  going  before  tarried  for  us  at  Troas.”  If, 

1  The  examination  of  the  “Timothy-hypothesis”  by  Lekebusch  (s.  140- 
167)  is  one  of  the  finest  parts  of  his  excellent  treatise. 


APPENDIX 


409 


under  the  term  “  these,”  all  who  are  named  before  are  referred  to,  — 
which  is  the  most  natural  interpretation,1  —  the  so-called  Timothy- 
hypothesis  falls  to  the  ground.  In  connection  with  this  piece  of  evi¬ 
dence,  it  deserves  remark  that  the  absence  of  all  detail— the  summary 
style  of  the  narrative  —  in  passages  directly  connected  with  those  under 
consideration,  and  covering  a  portion  of  Paul’s  career  in  which  Timothy 
bore  an  equal  part,  is  against  the  supposition  that  Luke  had  at  his  com¬ 
mand  a  diary  of  this  apostolic  helper.  The  opinion  that  Titus  wrote 
the  passages  in  question  lacks  definite  support.  Against  it  is  the  cir¬ 
cumstance  that  there  is  no  mention  of  Titus  in  the  epistles  of  Paul 
written  during  his  first  imprisonment,  whereas  the  author  of  these 
passages  accompanied  the  apostle  to  Rome.  The  decisive  argument 
against  each  of  these  several  hypotheses  is  the  misconception  of  the 
general  structure  and  character  of  the  book  which  they  imply.  Were 
it  true  that  the  book  presents  the  appearance  of  being  a  compilation  of 
documents  imperfectly  fused  or  combined, — left  in  a  good  degree  in 
their  original  state,  —  it  might  not  unreasonably  be  assumed  that  the 
author  had  taken  up  a  document  from  another’s  pen,  leaving  in  it  the 
pronominal  feature  which  we  are  discussing.  This  idea  of  the  book 
was  a  part  of  Schleiermacher’s  theory.  But  a  more  thorough  exami¬ 
nation  of  the  Acts  has  made  it  clear  that,  from  whatever  sources  the 
author  draws  his  information,  it  is  one  production,  coherent  in  plan, 
its  different  parts  connected  by  references  forward  and  backward,  and 
flowing  from  a  single  pen.  If  Luke  here  took  up  into  his  work  a  docu¬ 
ment  from  another  hand,  he  could  not  have  given  it  the  harmony  with 
his  own  style  which  it  exhibits,  without  remoulding  its  form  and  phrase¬ 
ology  to  such  an  extent  as  renders  it  impossible  to  suppose  the  retention 
of  the  “ we ”  to  be  artless  or  accidental.  Memoranda  from  another 
source,  if  Luke  had  such,  were  rewritten  by  him ;  but  this  leaves  the 
retaining  of  the  “we,”  with  no  explanation,  an  insoluble  fact.  We 
infer,  then,  with  confidence,  that  Luke,  in  these  passages,  professes  to 
speak  in  his  own  person.2  This  fact  Zeller  and  other  acute  Tubingen 
critics  admitted ;  and  their  conclusion  was,  that  whilst  the  author  of 
the  Acts,  whom  they  conceived  of  as  writing  in  the  second  century, 
used  a  previously  written  document,  he  intentionally  left  the  “  we  ”  as 
it  stood,  —  although  the  document  in  other  parts  was  materially  wrought 
over  by  him,  —  in  order  to  produce  the  false  impression  that  he  was  the 
contemporary  and  associate  of  Paul.  This  refined  fraud  is  attributed, 

1  See  Meyer,  ad  loc. 

2  There  remains,  to  be  sure,  the  question  why  Luke  does  not  expressly  state 
the  fact  of  his  joining  Paul,  but  leaves  it  to  be  gathered  from  this  use  of  the 
pronoun.  But  this  book  was  written  for  a  private  individual.  Of  the  circum¬ 
stances  of  Luke’s  companionship  with  Paul,  Theophilus  may  have  known 
something  before. 


4io 


APPENDIX 


and  it  is  thought  necessary  to  attribute,  to  the  author  of  the  Acts.  But 
if  we  are  not  prepared  to  sanction  this  imputation,  the  reasonable 
alternative  is  to  accept  the  testimony  of  the  author  concerning  himself ; 
that  is,  to  ascribe  his  work  to  a  contemporary  and  companion  of  the 
apostle  Paul. 

It  is  true  that  in  both  of  his  writings,  Luke  was  instructed  in  part  by 
written  sources  as  well  as  by  verbal  communications.  An  instance  of 
the  former  is  the  opening  chapters  of  the  Gospel,  which  relate  to  the 
birth  and  childhood  of  Jesus,  and  contain  traces  of  the  Hebraic  diction 
of  a  document  used  in  their  composition.  But  the  author  of  these 
books  affords  abundant  evidence  of  his  capacity  as  a  writer.  The  dedi¬ 
cation  which  forms  the  prologue  of  the  Gospel  is  marked  by  an  ele¬ 
gance  in  its  structure  and  phraseology  which  has  elicited  the  admiration 
of  classical  scholars  who  are  most  competent  judges  of  its  linguistic 
merit.  The  “  we  ”  passages  in  the  Acts  are  by  the  same  author.  This 
fact  excludes  the  theory  that  they  are  carelessly  taken  up  from  another 
source  in  the  way  which  this  supposition  implies. 

NOTE  13  (p.  252) 

A.  Resch,  Aussercanonische  Paralleltexte  zu  den  Evang .,  Heft  4; 
Paralleltexte  zu  Johannes  (1896),  pp.  2-4.  Resell  points  out,  as  he 
thinks,  in  the  liturgy,  in  the  Didache  (in  cc.  ix.  x.),  not  less  than 
seventeen  allusions  to  John’s  Gospel.  When  these  are  sifted  by  a 
severe  criticism  there  remain  proofs  not  easily  to  be  set  aside  in  the 
style  of  the  liturgy,  and  in  a  number  of  allusions  in  it  to  be  connected 
with  the  gospel  rather  than  with  a  tradition  .  The  conclusion  of  Resch 
is  that  the  gospel  must  have  contained  in  itself  before  the  end  of  the 
first  century  the  substratum  of  the  earliest  liturgical  product  of  primitive 
Christianity  (p.  4). 

Resch  considers  that  the  earliest  reference  to  the  gospel,  the  name  of 
John  being  used,  is  given  in  the  Coptic-Gnostic  work,  codex  Bruce  (ed. 
Schmidt),  a.d.  160  (Resch,  p.  24).  The  list  of  references  which  Resch 
finds  in  Justin  contains,  when  strictly  but  fairly  revised,  much  material 
to  be  approved.  But  it  is  needless  at  present  to  argue  for  the  use  of 
John  by  Justin.  It  is  conceded.  The  time  has  gone  by  when,  to  use 
the  words  of  Professor  J.  H.  Thayer,  one  of  “the  framers  of  hypotheses  ” 
was  “driven  to  say  that  the  doctrine  of  John  was  borrowed  from  Justin. 
Sydney  Smith  .  .  .  had  a  rural  neighbor  who  was  persuaded  that  the 
hundred  and  fourth  Psalm  was  a  plagiarism  upon  a  devotional  compo¬ 
sition  of  his  own.”  —  The  Biblical  World ,  vol.  xix.,  No.  4,  April,  1902, 
p.  254. 

NOTE  14  (p.  254) 

After  explaining  that  the  accounts  which  constituted  the  materials  at 
the  basis  of  the  first  three  Gospels  did  not  originate  in  any  design 


APPENDIX 


411 

to  give  a  connected  account  of  the  life  or  the  public  ministry  of  Christ 
as  a  whole,  Neander  proceeds  as  follows:  “John’s  Gospel,  the  only 
consecutive  account  of  the  ministry  of  Christ,  could  have  proceeded 
from  none  other  than  the  beloved  disciple  on  whose  soul  the  image  of 
Christ  had  made  the  deepest  impress.  It  could  not  have  emanated  from 
the  soul  of  any  man  of  the  second  century.  We  cannot  even  imagine 
any  man  of  that  century  so  little  affected  by  the  controversies  (Gegen- 
satze),  and  so  far  exalted  above  them.  Not  in  an  age  when  everything 
was  broken  up  into  antagonisms,  from  which  not  even  the  attempts  at 
mediation  could  escape,  was  it  possible  for  such  a  product  to  arise,  which 
bears  in  it  no  trace  either  of  the  stamp  of  the  religious  materialism  or 
anthropomorphism  or  the  one-sided  intellectualism  which  characterized 
that  period.  How  mighty  the  man  must  have  been  in  relation  to  a  time 
so  far  beneath  him  who  could  bring  forth  from  his  own  mind  such  an  im¬ 
age  of  Christ !  And  this  man,  too,  in  a  time  which  had  so  few  superior 
minds,  remained  in  the  deepest  obscurity !  Such  an  one,  who  was  com¬ 
petent  and  must  have  felt  himself  called  to  accomplish  the  highest 
achievement  of  his  time  if  he  had  come  out  openly  and  unmasked,  must 
make  use  of  so  pitiful  an  artifice  in  order  to  smuggle  in  his  ideas !  .  .  . 
Strange  that  a  man  who  wanted  to  secure  faith  in  his  inventions  should, 
in  the  chronology  and  topography  of  the  life  of  Christ,  give  the  lie  to 
the  universal  tradition  of  the  church  of  his  time  instead  of  conforming 
to  it !  ” 1 

NOTE  15  (p.  269) 

The  suggestion  of  Haupt  relative  to  the  occasional  group  by  the 
fourth  Evangelist,  of  kindred  sayings  of  Jesus  on  different  occasions, 
after  the  manner  of  Matthew,  deserves  much  more  attention  than  it  has 
received  from  those  who  think  that  they  find  instances  of  a  broken  con¬ 
nection  in  the  Evangelist’s  reports.  If  such  a  disconnection  could  be 
shown,  this  would  be  a  not  improbable  solution  of  the  difficulty.  This 
is  favored  in  the  essay  by  Rev.  N.  L.  Wild  in  the  Contmtio  Veritatis, 
on  “The  Teaching  of  Christ”  (pp.  105-167).  After  saying  that  the 
fourth  Evangelist  has  made  a  careful  choice  among  the  facts  of  a  wide 
tradition,  he  adds :  “  There  would  seem  to  be  everywhere  a  conscious 
grouping  of  the  sayings  according  to  subject-matter  rather  than  to  cir¬ 
cumstance.  The  fragmentary  and  occasional  utterances  have  been 
fused  by  memory  and  reflection  with  the  long  discourse,”  etc.  (p.  156). 
This  hypothesis  is  here  carried  much  farther  than  it  is  applied  by  Haupt. 

One  of  the  ablest  of  modern  theologians,  Rothe,  conceived  that  his 
own  mode  of  conceiving  of  the  Trinity  had  support  from  a  supposed 
lack  of  harmony  between  the  expressions  of  Jesus  respecting  his  unity 
with  God,  recorded  in  John’s  Gospel,  and  certain  expressions  of  the 
Evangelist  himself  on  the  same  subject.  As  bold  in  speculation  as  he 
was  devout  in  faith  and  piety,  Rothe  broached  the  opinion  that  the  con- 
1  Leben  Jesu  (ed.  5),  p.  10,  Engl,  transl.  of  ed.  4,  p.  6  (revised). 


412 


APPENDIX 


ception  of  a  preexistent  divine  hypostasis  was  an  idea  of  the  apostle 
John,  and  also  of  the  apostle  Paul,  and  the  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews,  which  was  suggested  to  them  in  a  current  widespread  Jewish 
theological  conception,  and  secured  to  them  a  natural  solution  of  the 
mystery  of  the  unity  of  divinity  and  humanity  in  Jesus,  in  which  they 
fervently  believed!1  It  is  obvious  that  theories  like  these  referred  to 
above  have  no  claim  to  credence  unless  the  exegetical  premises  on 
which  they  rest  are  fully  verified. 

NOTE  16  (p.  272) 

“  Peter,”  the  name  attached,  from  its  significance,  to  the  disciple 
“  Simon,”  is  the  name  by  which,  more  and  more,  Simon  came  to  be 
designated  in  the  churches  as  we  see  from  the  New  Testament  writings. 
St.  Paul  (as  in  Gal.  ii.)  speaks  of  him  as  “  Peter,”  using  also  its  Hebrew 
equivalent,  “  Cephas.”  If  there  is  truth  in  the  suggestion  that  the  phrase, 
“  whom  Jesus  loved,”  is  probably  the  rendering  of  a  single  Aramaic 
word,  signifying  “  beloved  ”  or  something  equivalent,  and  was  applied 
by  Jesus  to  John,  and  became  a  more  or  less  usual  designation  of  the 
apostle,  the  use  of  it  in  the  fourth  Gospel  would  have  an  additional 
explanation. 

NOTE  1 7  (p.  280) 

See,  in  John  ii.  12,  Dr.  Dwight’s  note  in  the  translation  of  Godet’s 
Commentary.  The  passage  in  John  reads,  “After  this  he  [Jesus] 
went  down  to  Capernaum,  he  and  his  mother,  and  his  brother,  and  his 
disciples  ;  and  there  they  abode  not  many  days.”  The  bare  fact  of  this 
visit  is  stated  with  no  assigning  of  a  motive  for  it,  or  of  anything  that 
occurred.  To  make  anything  out  of  this  statement  but  a  historical  recol¬ 
lection  is  a  desperate  undertaking. 

NOTE  18  (p.  289) 

A  learned  and  fair-minded  scholar  wrote  thus,  in  the  closing  period  of 
his  life,  in  a  letter:  “On  the  genuineness  of  John  my  opinion  remains 
unchanged.  Many  of  the  embarrassments  I  think  (are  greatly  aggra¬ 
vated  by)  misconception  as  to  the  nature  of  the  gospels  in  general,  and 
of  that  one  in  particular,  and  the  consequent  application  to  it  of  false 
historical  requirements  which  it  was  not  intended  to  meet.”  —  Professor 
J.  Henry  Thayer,  in  The  Biblical  World ,  vol.  xix.,  No.  4,  April,  1902. 

NOTE  19  (p.  305) 

Yet  the  tradition  underlying  the  synoptic  Gospels  is  inadequate  to 
account  for  the  fulness  with  which  the  teaching  of  Christ’s  divinity  was 

1  Rothe’s  exposition  of  his  theory  is  presented  at  length  in  his  Dog?natik , 
Th.  i.,  especially  on  pp.  106  seq. 


APPENDIX 


413 


developed  in  the  apostolic  church.  The  words  of  Weizsacker  (in  1864) 
are  still  worth  citing :  “  The  strong  apostolic  faith  which  has  assured  to 
Christianity  its  permanent  existence  in  the  world  can  be  explained 
only  on  the  assumption  that  the  life  of  Jesus  stood  on  such  a  lofty  plane 
as  the  fourth  Gospel  permits  us  to  discern.  We  have  every  reason  to 
suppose  that  this  derivation  of  the  belief  in  the  higher  nature  of  Jesus, 
from  his  own  words  and  deeds,  sprang  from  a  historical  conviction  of 
the  writer  himself.  For  this  delineation  of  Jesus  exactly  corresponds  to 
the  mighty  effect  produced  by  the  whole  personality,  and  is  necessary 
in  order  to  explain  how  the  faith  in  this  person  so  soon  became  the 
essence  of  Christianity.”1  —  Ajnerican  Journal  of  Theology ,  vol.  ii., 
No.  1,  January,  1898. 

“  Although  the  first  three  gospels  contain  no  explicit  assertion  of  the 
doctrine,  the  personage  they  portray  forbids  his  classification  with  ordi¬ 
nary  men,  and  leaves  so  unique  and  exalted  a  conception  of  his  relation 
to  the  Father,  that  the  explicit  declarations  of  the  fourth  Gospel  awaken 
no  surprise  in  the  ordinary  reader.  In  fact,  the  old  assertion  of  the 
critics,  that  the  fourth  Gospel  presents  a  very  different  personage  from 
the  Messiah  of  the  first  three,  is  now,  I  believe,  generally  abandoned.” 
—  Letter  of  Professor  J.  Henry  Thayer,  Biblical  World ,  vol.  xix.,  No.  4, 
April,  1902. 

NOTE  20  (p.  320) 

The  school  of  which  Strauss  was  the  most  prominent  representative 
supported  their  destructive  criticism  by  sophistical  reasoning.  The  aim 
was  to  convict  the  Gospels  of  inconsistency  and  contradiction  to  such 
an  extent  as  to  make  them  untrustworthy,  and  to  render  the  life  of  Jesus, 
beyond  the  most  general  outlines,  utterly  obscure  and  uncertain.  One 
of  the  Evangelists  was  used  to  disprove  the  statement  of  another ;  and 
the  second,  in  turn,  was  impeached  on  the  authority  of  the  first.  The 
first  Life  of  Christ  by  Strauss,  his  principal  work,  is  full  of  examples  of 
this  circular  reasoning.  But,  besides  this  transparent  vice  of  logic,  in 
the  treatment  of  the  details  of  the  history,  there  was  a  flagitious  disre¬ 
gard  of  the  sound  and  acknowledged  principles  of  historical  criticism. 
Variations,  however  innocent,  were  magnified  into  an  irreconcilable  dis¬ 
cordance.  Peculiarities  in  the  narratives,  such  as  occur  in  the  most 
authentic  historical  writers,  were  imputed  by  Baur  and  his  followers  to 
contrivance.  At  the  present  time,  the  ascription  of  discreditable  motives 
to  the  New  Testament  historians  is  decidedly  less  common.  But  falla¬ 
cious  reasoning  from  diversities  in  their  narrations  is  far  from  being 
unusual.  All  who  pursue  historical  studies,  all  who  take  notice  of  tes¬ 
timony  in  courts,  or  even  of  ordinary  conversation,  know  how  many 
occasions  there  are  for  varying  the  form  of  a  narrative,  besides  a  want 


1  Untersuchung ,  pp.  287  seq. 


414 


APPENDIX 


of  knowledge,  or  of  honesty  in  the  narrator.  The  desire  of  brevity 
leads  to  the  modification  of  the  features  of  a  transaction  in  the  report 
of  it.  To  give  prominence  to  one  element,  or  aspect,  of  the  story,  the 
order  of  circumstances  maybe  changed.  For  the  sake  of  making  an 
event  intelligible  to  a  particular  person,  or  class,  or  to  give  graphic  force 
to  the  account  of  it,  something  may  have  to  be  added  or  subtracted. 
Thus  a  diversity  of  form  may  be  produced,  which  yet  involves  no  error. 
An  unknown  circumstance  may  be  the  missing  link  which  unites  testi¬ 
mony  that  is  apparently  discordant.  The  justice  of  these  remarks,  and 
the  fallacy  of  the  method  of  criticism  referred  to,  are  best  illustrated  by 
examples  drawn  from  ordinary  history.  As  one  instance,  we  may  refer 
to  two  passages,  in  the  last  volume  of  President  John  Adams’s  Letters, 
which  were  written  with  an  interval  of  little  more  than  a  year  between 
them  :  — 

(A)  To  William  Tudor 

Quincy,  5  June,  1817. 

Mr.  Otis,  soon  after  my  earliest  ac¬ 
quaintance  with  him,  lent  me  a  sum¬ 
mary  of  Greek  Prosody,  of  his  own 
collection  and  composition,  a  work  of 
profound  learning  and  great  labor.  I 
had  it  six  months  in  my  possession  be¬ 
fore  I  returned  it.  Since  my  return 
from  Europe,  I  asked  his  daughter 
whether  she  had  found  that  work  among 
her  father’s  manuscripts.  She  answered 
with  a  countenance  of  woe  that  you  may 
more  easily  imagine  that  I  can  describe, 
that  “  she  had  not  a  line  from  her 
father’s  pen;  that  he  had  spent  much 
time,  and  taken  great  pains  to  collect 
together  all  his  letters  and  other  papers, 
and  in  one  of  his  unhappy  moments, 
committed  them  all  to  the  flames.”  I 
have  used  her  own  expressions. 

Suppose  that  these  two  narratives,  instead  of  being  from  the  pen  of  a 
modern  writer,  had  been  found  in  the  Gospels  by  a  critic  of  a  familiar 
type,  the  first  of  them  being  in  one  Evangelist,  and  the  second  in  another. 
What  a  field  for  suspicion  !  What  confident  hypotheses  should  we  have 
for  the  explanation  of  the  phenomena  in  question  !  We  should  be  told 
that  document  B  is  a  product  of  exaggeration,  founded  on  the  simple 
story  in  A.  The  “countenance  of  woe,”  in  A,  is  turned  into  “eyes 
uplifted”  and  a  “paroxysm  of  grief,”  in  B.  The  reply  of  the  daughter 
is  broken  up  into  separate  parts  for  “  dramatic  effect.”  The  circum¬ 
stance  that  “  pamphlets  ”  as  well  as  “  letters  ”  and  “  papers  ”  are  men- 


(B)  To  H.  Niles 

Quincy,  14  June,  1818. 

After  my  return  from  Europe,  I 
asked  his  daughter  whether  she  had 
found  among  her  father’s  manuscripts 
a  treatise  on  Greek  Prosody.  With 
hands  and  eyes  uplifted,  in  a  paroxysm 
of  grief,  she  cried,  “  Oh  !  sir,  I  have 
not  a  line  from  my  father’s  pen.  I  have 
not  even  his  name  in  his  own  hand¬ 
writing.”  When  she  was  a  little  calmed, 
I  asked  her,  “  Who  has  his  papers  ? 
where  are  they  ?  ”  She  answered, 
“  They  are  no  more.  In  one  of  those 
unhappy  dispositions  of  mind  which 
distressed  him  after  his  great  misfor¬ 
tune,  and  a  little  before  his  death,  he 
collected  all  his  papers  and  pamphlets, 
and  committed  them  to  the  flames. 
He  was  several  days  employed  in  it.” 


APPENDIX 


415 


tioned  among  the  things  destroyed,  is  an  addition  from  the  fancy  of  the 
second  writer,  or  is  an  accretion  in  “the  second  evangelical  tradition.”  The 
general  view  as  to  the  relation  of  the  two  documents  is  confirmed  be¬ 
yond  a  question  by  the  fact  that  the  destruction  of  the  papers  is  said  in 
A  to  have  been  accomplished  in  “  one  of  his  unhappy  moments,”  while 
B  makes  it  the  work  of  ‘‘several  days.”  A  makes  the  collection  of 
these  materials  for  the  flames  occupy  a  prolonged  period  ;  B  thinks  that 
the  impression  would  be  more  startling  to  represent  the  conflagration 
itself  as  long  in  duration.  But  why  does  B  omit  the  statement  that  the 
book  of  Prosody  had  been  “  six  months”  in  the  hands  of  the  writer 
at  a  previous  time  ?  Obviously,  because  the  disappointment  at  its  de¬ 
struction  would  be  softened  by  the  circumstance  that  Mr.  Adams  had 
already  perused  the  work  ;  and  this  would  clash  with  the  intention  of 
the  writer  of  B,  who  will  paint  the  calamity  in  the  liveliest  colors.  We 
appeal  to  any  one  who  is  conversant  with  modern  critical  works  upon 
the  Gospels,  if  this  representation  is  not  a  fair  parody  of  the  procedure 
of  many  of  them  in  their  handling  of  these  writings.  And  these  con¬ 
clusions  are  often  announced  with  the  assurance  proper  to  mathematical 
certainty.  As  it  happens,  in  the  present  case,  we  know  that  both  docu¬ 
ments  are  from  one  hand,  the  hand  of  a  writer  of  scrupulous  veracity. 
The  same  fact  is  narrated  in  the  one  briefly,  in  the  other  more  in  detail. 
Both,  considering  the  compass  of  each,  and  the  end  for  which  they 
were  written,  are  accurate.  When,  in  the  first  letter,  Mr.  Adams  says 
that  he  has  “  used  her  own  expressions,”  he  does  not  mean  to  be  under¬ 
stood  as  giving  everything  that  she  said,  or  the  precise  order  in  which 
her  answers  were  spoken. 

There  is  a  familiar  story  of  the  way  in  which  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  is 
said  to  have  been  impressed  with  the  uncertainty  of  historic  narratives. 
This  feeling  was  inspired  by  the  contradicting  accounts  which  he  heard 
from  eye-witnesses  of  a  fracas  which  he  had  himself  seen  from  his  win¬ 
dow  in  the  Tower.  The  difficulty  of  getting  at  the  exact  truth  as  to 
minor  circumstances  was  naturally  inferred.  Whether  the  story  be  true 
or  not,  there  is  likewise  another  important  custom  that  may  be  sug¬ 
gested  by  it  to  the  historical  student.  Seemingly  discordant  details 
may  spring  from  the  varying  perspective  of  different  reporters,  the  effect 
of  which  the  reader  or  hearer  is  often  not  competent  to  weigh. 

Let  the  reader  take  up  any  important  event  in  ancient  or  modern 
history,  which  has  been  described  by  several  writers,  even  in  cases  when 
they  were  eye-witnesses,  and  not  unobservant  or  dishonest,  and  he  will 
find  variations  in  matters  of  detail,  which,  to  a  great  extent  at  least, 
might  disappear,  were  the  whole  transaction  presented  to  our  view,  and 
which,  in  any  event,  do  not  affect  the  substance  of  the  narrative. 

The  death  of  Cicero  is  described  by  Plutarch  and  Appian,  and  is  no¬ 
ticed  also  by  Dion  Cassius,  Livy,  and  others.  We  set  in  parallel  columns 
the  two  principal  accounts  :  — 


4i  6 


APPENDIX 


Plutarch,  Vita  Ciceronis 

But  in  the  meantime  the  assassins 
were  come  with  a  band  of  soldiers, 
Herennius  a  centurion,  and  Popilius 
[Lcenas]  a  tribune  whom  Cicero  had 
formerly  defended  when  prosecuted 
for  the  murder  of  his  father.  Find¬ 
ing  the  doors  shut,  they  broke  them 
open,  and  Cicero  not  appearing,  and 
those  within  saying  they  knew  not 
where  he  was,  it  is  stated  that  a  youth, 
who  had  been  educated  by  Cicero  in 
the  liberal  arts  and  sciences,  an  eman¬ 
cipated  slave  of  his  brother  Quintus, 
Philologus  by  name,  informed  the 
tribune  that  the  litter  was  on  its  way 
to  the  sea  through  the  close  and 
shady  walks.  The  tribune,  taking  a 
few  with  him,  ran  to  the  place  where 
he  was  to  come  out.  And  Cicero, 
perceiving  Herennius  running  in  the 
walks,  commanded  his  servants  to  set 
down  the  litter;  and  stroking  his  chin, 
as  he  used  to  do,  with  his  left  hand, 
he  looked  steadfastly  upon  his  mur¬ 
derers,  his  person  covered  with  dust, 
his  beard  and  hair  untrimmed,  and 
his  face  worn  with  troubles.  So  that 
the  greatest  part  of  those  that  stood 
by  covered  their  faces  whilst  Heren¬ 
nius  slew  him.  And  thus  was  he 
murdered,  stretching  forth  his  neck 
out  of  the  litter,  being  now  in  his 
sixty-fourth  year.  Herennius  cut  off 
his  head,  and,  by  Antony’s  command, 
his  hands  also,  by  which  the  Philippics 
were  written;  for  so  Cicero  styled 
those  orations  he  wrote  against  An¬ 
tony,  and  so  they  are  called  to  this  day. 


Appian,  de  Beilis  Civ .  IV.  xix.  xx 

While  now  many  people  ran  about 
here  and  there,  inquiring  if  Cicero 
had  been  seen  anywhere,  and  some, 
out  of  good-will  and  compassion  for 
him,  said :  “  He  has  already  sailed 
and  is  out  upon  the  sea,”  a  shoemaker, 
a  client  of  Clodius,  the  most  bitter 
enemy  of  Cicero,  pointed  out  the  right 
way  to  Lsenas,  the  centurion,  who  had 
a  few  soldiers  with  him.  Lsenas  hur¬ 
ried  after,  and,  at  the  sight  of  the 
servants,  whom  he  saw  to  be  of  a 
greater  number  than  his  following, 
and  prepared  for  resistance,  made  use 
of  a  soldier’s  stratagem,  and  called 
out :  Centurions  who  are  behind, 
hasten  forward !  By  this  means  the 
servants,  under  the  idea  that  more 
were  coming,  were  struck  with  a  panic 
( naTa'trXdyriacu' ).  And  Lsenas,  al¬ 
though  he  had  once  gained  a  cause 
by  the  aid  of  Cicero,  dragging  his 
head  out  of  the  litter  severed  it  from 
the  body,  or  rather,  from  want  of 
skill,  sawed  it  off,  since  he  struck  the 
neck  three  times.  At  the  same  time 
he  cut  off  the  hand  with  which  Cicero 
had  written  those  speeches  against 
Antony  as  a  tyrant,  to  which,  after  the 
example  of  Demosthenes,  he  gave  the 
name  of  Philippics. 


It  will  be  observed  that  Plutarch  states  that  it  was  a  freedman  of 
Quintus,  named  Philologus,  who  told  the  pursuers  of  Cicero  what  path 
he  had  taken.  Appian,  on  the  other  hand,  says  that  it  was  a  shoemaker, 
a  client  of  Claudius.  Plutarch  (with  whom  Livy  agrees)  says  that 
Cicero  stretched  his  head  out  of  the  litter ;  Appian  says  that  Laenas 
pulled  it  out.  Plutarch  says  that  Herennius  cut  off  the  head ;  Appian 
that  it  was  done  by  Laenas,  awkwardly,  in  three  blows  —  by  sawing  rather 
than  cutting.  Plutarch  says  that  his  hands  were  cut  off,  and  Livy  that 


APPENDIX 


417 


the  head  was  fastened  to  the  rostrum  between  the  two  hands.  Appian’s 
statement  is,  that  the  hand  was  cut  off  which  had  written  the  Philippics, 
—  that  is,  the  right  hand.  Appian  states  that  the  servants  of  Cicero 
were  dismayed  by  the  shout  of  Lasnas,  which  implied  the  presence  of  a 
strong  force  near.  But  Plutarch  informs  us  that  Cicero  directed  the 
litter  to  be  set  down ;  and  Livy  adds  to  this  that  he  commanded  the 
bearers  of  it  to  make  no  resistance.1  Dion  states  not  only  that  it  was 
Laenas  who  cut  off  the  head,  but  that  he  kept  the  skull  near  to  a  gar¬ 
landed  image  of  himself,  in  order  that  he  might  have  the  credit  of  the 
deed.2 

That  memorable  scene  in  English  history  when  Oliver  Cromwell  dis¬ 
persed  the  Long  Parliament,  and  locked  the  door,  has  been  described 
by  Whitelocke,  Algernon  Sidney,  and  Ludlow,  the  two  former  of  whom 
were  present,  and  the  last,  who  was  in  Ireland,  derived  his  information 
from  eye-witnesses.  There  are  various  points  of  difference  in  these 
three  narrations.  For  instance,  Whitelocke  says  that  Cromwell  led  a 
file  of  musketeers  in  with  him,  leaving  the  rest  at  the  door  and  in  the 
lobby.  Ludlow  says  nothing  of  the  introduction  of  the  soldiers  into  the 
room  where  the  house  was  sitting,  until  they  were  summoned  in  by 
Cromwell’s  order.  Whitelocke  says  that  Col.  Harrison  rose  and  took 
the  speaker  by  the  arm  ;  Ludlow  that  he  put  his  hand  within  the 
speaker’s  hand,  and  in  this  way  assisted  him  out  of  the  chair.  These 
and  other  differences  are  enough  to  furnish  a  hostile  critic  with  the 
means  for  a  plausible  attack  upon  the  credibility,  if  not  of  the  main 
event,  of  the  leading  circumstances  attending  the  event.  Yet,  whoever 
will  recur  to  Mr.  Carlyle’s  or  Mr.  John  Forster’s  description,  will  see 
that  we  are  driven  to  no  such  unsatisfactory  conclusion. 

Nothing  can  be  more  unwarrantable  and  fallacious  than  to  raise 
doubts  respecting  a  whole  transaction  on  account  of  real  or  seeming 
discrepancies  that  relate  to  a  single  feature  of  it.  It  is  a  controverted 
question  who  commanded  the  American  forces  at  Bunker  Hill.  Some 
have  said  that  it  was  Prescott,  others  have  said  that  it  was  Putnam. 
Whatever  the  truth  may  be,  whether  it  was  the  one,  or  the  other,  or 
neither,  or  both,  this  discrepancy  in  contemporary  or  later  accounts 
proves  nothing  against  the  reality  of  that  occurrence  which  we  call 
the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  The  preliminaries  and  main  events  of  that 
engagement  have  been  correctly  reported.  The  difference  in  the 
writers  as  to  who  was  the  commander  may,  perhaps,  be  adjusted, 
without  the  ascription  of  an  actual  error  to  any  of  the  authorities  on 
which  we  depend  for  our  knowledge  of  the  event.  Yet  diversities 
of  no  more  significance  have  often  been  made  a  pretext  for  impeaching 

1  “  Satis  constat  .  .  .  ipsum  deponi  lecticam  et  quietos  pati  quod  fors  iniqua 
cogeret  jussisse.”  Fragment,  ad  lib.  cxx.,  ap.  Seneca,  Suasoria,  vii. 

2  Hist.,  xlvii.  10. 


418 


APPENDIX 


the  trustworthiness  of  the  Gospel  historians,  and  denying  the  reality 
of  the  various  transactions  which  they  record. 

There  is  thus  a  proper  sphere  for  the  Harmonist.  A  consecutive 
narrative,  and  one  as  complete  as  the  materials  at  our  command 
render  it  possible  to  construct,  of  the  life  of  Jesus  must  be  founded  on 
a  comparison  of  the  four  Gospels ;  just  as  a  history  of  the  Apostolic 
Age  must  rest  upon  the  foundation  of  the  book  of  Acts  and  the 
Epistles  studied  in  connection  with  it.  The  prejudice  against  the 
Harmonists  as  a  class,  which  prevails  widely  and  is  shared  by  not 
a  few  scholars  who  have  no  disposition  to  reject  the  supernatural 
elements  of  the  evangelical  history,  has  its  origin  in  extravagances 
of  Harmonistic  writers.  An  extravagant  conception  of  the  nature  and 
extent  of  inspiration  as  related  to  the  historical  writings  of  the  New 
Testament  has  characterized  this  school.  The  inspiration  of  the 
Evangelists,  instead  of  having  its  effect  in  an  elevation  of  mind  and  in 
spiritual  insight,  has  been  thought  to  secure  an  impeccability  of  memory, 
—  to  operate,  like  the  demon  of  Socrates,  in  a  negative  way,  and  by 
holding  them  back  from  the  slightest  inaccuracy,  to  furnish  a  guaranty 
for  the  absolute  correctness  of  all  the  minutiae  of  the  narrative.  This 
perfection  of  memory  and  judgment  —  which,  as  Dr.  Arnold  said,  would 
imply  the  transference  of  divine  attributes  to  men  —  has  been  con¬ 
sidered  an  attribute  of  the  apostolic  office.  As  three  out  of  the  five 
histories  in  the  New  Testament  were  not  written  by  apostles,  it  has 
been  assumed  that  the  relation  of  Mark  to  Peter,  and  of  Luke  to  Paul, 
secures  an  apostolic  authority  to  these  non-apostolic  Evangelists. 
That  the  second  and  third  Gospels,  and  the  Acts,  were  ever  submitted 
to  apostles  for  their  revision  and  sanction  is  a  proposition  which  no 
enlightened  scholar  would  venture  to  affirm.  We  find  that  Luke,  in 
the  prologue  of  the  Gospel,  does  not  assume  to  write,  as  Councils  of 
the  Church  have  sometimes  done,  Sancto  Sftiritu  dictante ;  but  he 
invites  confidence  on  the  ground  of  his  means  of  getting  knowledge 
and  his  diligent  investigations.  Some  of  the  evangelical  historians, 
Luke  certainly,  make  use  of  prior  documents,  written  memoranda 
from  other  sources.  The  apostles  themselves  claimed  credence  for 
the  story  which  they  told,  on  the  ground  that  they  were  telling  what 
they  had  seen  and  heard.  The  number  of  the  Twelve,  after  the  defection 
of  Judas,  was  filled  up  by  the  choice  of  Matthias,  in  order  that  another 
witness,  a  companion  of  Christ,  wffio  had  heard  his  teaching  and  seen 
his  works,  might  be  provided  (Acts  i.  21,  22).  We  find  that  the 
apostles  limit  their  testimony  to  the  period  of  their  personal  acquaint¬ 
ance  with  Christ;  the  first  thirty  years  of  his  life — with  the  exception 
of  a  few  incidents  relating  to  his  infancy  and  boyhood  which  were 
gathered  up  from  oral  sources  —  being  passed  over  in  silence.  The 
laws  that  determine  the  credibility  of  history  are  respected  in  the 
composition  of  the  sacred  books.  Contemporary  evidence  is  furnished. 


APPENDIX 


419 


The  departures  from  this  practice  are  the  exceptions  that  prove  the 
rule. 

The  effect  of  the  rigid  Harmonistic  assumption,  when  applied  in  the 
concrete,  is  to  lead  to  a  mechanical  combination  of  two  or  more 
relations,  where  a  sound  historical  criticism  would  make  a  choice 
among  diverse,  and  commonly  unimportant,  particulars,  or  rectify  in 
such  points  the  statement  of  one  Evangelist  by  the  apparently  fuller 
information  of  another.  Thus  in  the  accounts  of  the  denial  of  Peter, 
there  is  not  a  precise  accordance  as  to  localities.  With  regard  to  the 
second  denial,  Mark  says  that  the  same  maid  (rj  TraiSicr^)  put  the 
question  to  which  he  responded;  Matthew  says,  “another  maid”; 
while  Luke  makes  it  “another  man”  (erepos —  sc.  avOpanros,  ver.  58). 
This  is  a  trifling  divergence.  It  is  a  case  where  a  narrator  might  not 
wish  to  be  held  responsible  for  a  strictly  accurate  statement.  But 
the  older  Harmonists,  who  conceived  that  the  Evangelists  must  have 
written  with  the  precision  of  a  notary  public,  felt  it  necessary  to  avoid 
these  variations  by  assuming  that  Peter’s  denials  reached  the  number 
of  nine  or  ten ;  although  as  to  the  main  fact  that  they  were  three 
in  number  —  by  which  it  is  meant  that  there  were  no  more  as  well 
as  no  less  than  three  —  the  Evangelists  are  united ;  and  such  was 
unquestionably  the  real  number.  Out  of  a  dread  to  admit  the  slightest 
inaccuracies  in  the  Gospels,  the  Harmonists  convert  the  evangelical 
history  into  a  grotesque  piece  of  mosaic. 

It  may  serve  to  illustrate  both  the  mistaken  and  the  true  method  of 
historical  criticism  as  applied  to  the  Gospels,  if  attention  is  called  to  a 
few  passages  where  two  or  more  of  the  Evangelists  are  compared  with 
each  other.  Look,  first,  at  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  We  pass  by 
questions  as  to  its  chronological  place.  Luke  makes  it  to  have  been 
delivered  after  Christ  descended  from  the  Mount  to  the  plain,  with  his 
disciples.  On  this  point  a  reconciliation,  if  one  seeks  it,  is  not  impos¬ 
sible  ;  yet  the  question  arises  at  once  whether  Luke  does  not  follow  a 
different  tradition  from  that  which  is  presented  in  Matthew.  Compara¬ 
tively  few  scholars  question  the  fact  that  Matthew  connects  with  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  utterances  of  Christ  on  other  occasions.  This 
we  should  be  led  to  infer  from  an  inspection  of  parallel  passages  which 
occur  in  other  connections  in  Luke.  The  Lord’s  Prayer  is  an  example.1 

The  difference  in  the  text  of  the  Beatitudes  in  the  two  Gospels  shows 

1  Matt.  vi.  5  seq. ;  Luke  xi.  1  seq.  According  to  Luke,  Jesus  was  praying 
in  a  certain  place,  and  was  requested  by  one  of  the  disciples  to  teach  them 
how  to  pray.  That  in  Matthew  other  discourses  are  connected  with  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount,  Calvin  had  the  acuteness  to  perceive.  He  says, 
“  Sufficere  enim  piis  et  modestis  lector ibus  debet,  quod  hie  ante  octilos  positam 
habeant  summam  doctrince  Christi  collectam  ex  pluribus  et  diversis  concion- 
ibus  quarum  Jnec  prima  fait,  ubi  de  beatitudine  disseruit  apud  disci pnlosd  — 
Opera  (Amst.  ed.),  vi.  64. 


420 


APPENDIX 


a  diversity  in  the  oral  or  written  tradition  that  was  followed.  An  in¬ 
stance  of  slight  circumstantial  variation  is  in  the  accounts  of  a  miracle 
of  Jesus  at  the  gate  of  Jericho.1  Matthew  speaks  of  two  blind  men; 
Mark  and  Luke  of  one.  It  is  quite  possible  that  there  were  two,  though 
the  conversation  of  Jesus  may  have  been  with  only  one  of  them.  But 
Matthew  and  Mark  say  distinctly  that  it  was  when  Christ  was  leaving 
the  city,  while  Luke  says  that  it  was  when  he  drew  nigh  to  the  city. 
Afterward  he  passed  through  the  city.  Blind  men,  and  mendicants 
of  all  sorts,  took  their  station  at  the  gates  of  cities.  In  the  tradition 
which  came  to  Luke,  the  miracle  was  placed  at  the  gate  by  which  Jesus 
entered ;  in  the  tradition  which  appears  in  the  other  Evangelists,  it  was 
the  gate  by  which  he  left.  The  discrepancy  shows  that  there  was  no 
collusion  between  the  Evangelical  historians.  As  in  other  like  cases, 
it  confirms,  rather  than  weakens,  Christianity  evidences. 

The  discrepancy  in  the  record  of  the  words  spoken  from  heaven  at 
the  baptism  of  Jesus  has  many  parallels  in  the  Gospel  histories.  A 
familiar  instance  is  that  of  the  inscription  on  the  cross  :  — 

Matt,  xxvii.  37  Mark  xv.  26  Luke  xxiii.  38  John  xix.  19 

And  they  set  up  And  the  super-  And  there  was  And  Pilate  wrote  a 
over  his  head  his  scription  of  his  accu-  also  a  superscription  title  also,  and  put  it  on 

accusation  written,  sation  was  written  over  him,  this  is  the  cross.  And  there 

THIS  IS  JESUS  THE  Over,  THE  KING  OF  THE  KING  OF  THE  Was  Written,  JESUS 

KING  OF  THE  JEWS.  THE  JEWS.  JEWS.  OF  NAZARETH,  THE 

KING  OF  THE  JEWS. 

In  the  Authorized  Version,  Luke  is  made  to  say  that  the  superscription 
was  “  in  letters  of  Greek  and  Latin  and  Hebrew.”  These  words,  which 
were  probably  inserted  in  the  text  of  Luke  from  John’s  Gospel,  are  left 
out  in  the  Revised  Version.  The  variations  in  the  form  of  the  inscrip¬ 
tion  are  seen  at  a  glance.  They  point  to  different  sources  of  informa¬ 
tion.  One  harmonistic  suggestion  is  that  the  inscription  was  not  the 
same  in  the  three  languages.  This  of  course  is  possible,  but  not  probable. 

Another  familiar  example  of  discrepancies,  trifling  in  their  nature,  is 
in  the  accounts  of  the  sending  out  of  the  Twelve  :  — 

Matt.  x.  9,  10  Mark  vi.  8  Luke  ix.  3 

Get  you  no  gold,  nor  And  he  charged  them  that  And  he  said  unto  them, 
silver,  nor  brass  in  your  they  should  take  nothing  Take  nothing  for  your  jour- 
purses;  (10)  no  wallet  for  for  their  journey,  save  a  ney,  neither  staff,  nor  wal- 
your  journey,  neither  two  staff  only  ;  no  bread,  no  let,  nor  bread,  nor  money; 
coats,  nor  shoes,  nor  staff:  wallet,  no  money  in  their  neither  have  two  coats, 
for  the  labourer  is  worthy  purse;  but  to  go  shod  with 
of  his  food.  sandals;  and,  said  he,  put 

not  on  two  coats. 

Mark  describes  the  disciples  as  going  forth  with  nothing  in  their  hands 
but  a  pilgrim’s  staff.  In  Matthew  and  Luke  they  are  to  take  not  even 
a  staff.  The  idea  in  all  is  that  they  are  to  go  out  unprovided,  and  to 
depend  wholly  on  charity. 

1  Matt.  xx.  29-34;  Luke  xviii.  35-43,  xix.  i;  Mark  x.  46-52. 


APPENDIX 


421 


NOTE  21  (p.  203) 

The  Miracles  of  the  Gospel  in  Contrast  with  Heathen  and 

Ecclesiastical  Miracles1 

It  is  frequently  alleged  that  the  evidence  for  pagan  and  ecclesiastical 
miracles,  which  fill  so  large  a  space  in  chronicles  of  a  former  day,  but 
which  are  generally  fictitious,  is  as  strong  as  that  for  the  miracles 
recorded  in  the  Gospels.  What  is  to  be  said  of  the  ecclesiastical  mira¬ 
cles  is,  in  the  main,  applicable  to  miraculous  tales  found  in  ancient 
heathen  writers,  from  Herodotus  to  Livy,  and  from  Livy  to  the  fall  of 
the  ancient  Graeco-Roman  religion.  To  the  stream  of  Church  miracles, 
then,  which  flows  down  from  the  early  centuries,  through  the  middle 
ages,  almost  or  quite  to  our  own  time,  we  may  confine  our  attention. 
Is  the  proof  of  these  alleged  miracles  equal  in  force  to  that  of  the  mira¬ 
cles  recorded  by  the  Evangelists  ?  So  far  from  this  being  the  case, 
there  are  certain  broad  marks  of  distinction  by  which  these  last  are 
separated  from  the  general  current  of  miraculous  narrative. 

I .  One  direct,  although  not  the  exclusive,  purpose  of  the  Gospel  mira¬ 
cles  is  to  attest  the  fact  of  revelation.  They  are  the  proper  counterpart 
and  proof  of  revelation.  They  occur,  with  few  exceptions,  only  at  the 
marked  epochs  in  the  progress  of  revelation,  —  the  Mosaic  era,  the 
reform  and  advance  of  the  Old  Testament  religion  under  the  great 
prophets,  and  in  connection  with  the  ministry  of  Christ  and  the  found¬ 
ing  of  the  Church.  “  We  know,”  it  was  said,  “that  thou  art  a  teacher 
come  from  God ;  for  no  man  can  do  these  miracles  that  thou  doest, 
except  God  be  with  him”  (John  iii.  2). 

On  the  contrary,  ecclesiastical  miracles  profess  to  be  for  a  lower,  and, 
in  general,  for  a  signally  lower  end.  At  the  best,  they  are  to  aid  the 
preaching  of  a  missionary.  The  biblical  miracles  were  requisite  as  a 
part  and  proof  of  revelation.  When  they  have  once  taken  place,  testi¬ 
mony  adequate  is  all  that  can  reasonably  be  demanded  as  a  ground  of 
belief  in  them.  There  is  no  call  for  a  perpetual  interruption  of  the 
course  of  nature.  Even  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  holds  that  the 
whole  deposit  of  revelation  was  with  Christ  and  the  apostles.  The 
dogmatic  decisions  of  popes  and  councils  are  the  exposition  of  that 
primitive  doctrine.  Their  function  is  not  to  originate,  but  to  define, 
Christian  truth. 

But,  in  a  vast  majority  of  instances,  the  ecclesiastical  miracles  are  for 
some  end  below  that  of  serving  as  the  credentials  of  a  missionary.  At 
the  best,  they  are  to  relieve  the  distress  of  an  individual,  without  the 
ulterior  and  more  comprehensive  end  which  attaches  to  the  miracles 

1  Among  the  valuable  discussions  of  this  subject  are  Douglas’s  Criterion , 
Newman’s  Two  Essays  (4th  ed.,  1875),  and  Mozley’s  Banipton  Lectures. 


422 


APPENDIX 


wrought  by  Jesus  and  the  apostles.  In  a  multitude  of  instances  they 
simply  minister  to  an  appetite  for  marvels.  Witness  the  wonders  that 
crowd  the  pages  of  the  apocryphal  Gospels.  Many  are  for  objects 
extremely  trivial.  Fantastic  wonders  are  ascribed  to  Jesus  as  having 
been  wrought  in  his  childhood.  Tertullian  gives  an  account  of  a  vision 
in  which  an  angel  prescribed  to  a  female  the  size  and  length  of  her  veil. 
Some,  like  the  Jansenist  miracles  at  the  tomb  of  Abbe  Paris,  which 
Hume  cites  as  modern  examples  of  miracles  supported  by  testimony, 
are  in  the  cause  of  a  political  or  religious  party?  and  against  an  antago¬ 
nistic  faction.  Very  frequently  miracles  are  valued,  and  said  to  be 
wrought,  merely  as  verifications  of  the  sanctity  of  a  person  of  high 
repute  for  piety. 

The  distinction  which  we  are  here  considering  is  important.  No 
doubt  there  is  an  antecedent  presumption  against  the  occurrence  of 
miracles,  which  arises  from  our  belief  in  the  uniformity  of  nature  and 
the  conviction  we  have  that  an  established  order  is  beneficent.  This 
presumption  Christians  believe  to  be  neutralized  by  the  need  of  revela¬ 
tion,  and  by  the  peculiar  characteristics  of  the  Christian  system  and 
of  its  author.  But  in  proportion  as  the  end  assigned  to  miracles  is 
lower,  that  adverse  presumption  retains  force. 

2.  The  Gospel  miracles  were  not  wrought  in  coincidence  with  a 
prevailing  system,  and  for  the  furtherance  of  it,  but  in  connection  with 
teaching  hostile  to  prevalent  beliefs. 

This  is  another  striking  difference.  Jesus  won  all  of  his  disciples 
to  faith  in  him.  They  did  not  inherit  this  faith  :  they  did  not  grow  up 
in  it.  He  and  they  alike  had  to  confront  opposition  at  every  step. 
u  The  world,”  he  said,  “  hateth  me.”  His  doctrines  and  his  idea  of  the 
kingdom  of  God  clashed  with  Judaic  opinion  and  rooted  prejudice. 
Christianity  had  to  push  forward  in  the  face  of  the  enmity  of  all 
the  existing  forms  of  religion.  But  how  is  it  with  the  ecclesiastical 
miracles  of  later  ages?  Generally  speaking,  they  occurred,  if  wrought 
at  all,  in  the  midst  of  communities  and  smaller  circles  of  devotees 
which  were  already  in  fervent  sympathy  with  the  cause  and  the  creed 
in  behalf  of  which  they  were  supposed  to  be  performed.  The  narrations 
of  them  sprang  up  among  those  who  were,  beforehand,  full  of  con¬ 
fidence  in  the  Church  as  the  possessor  of  miraculous  power,  and  in 
the  close  relation  to  God  of  the  individuals  to  whom  such  miracles 
were  ascribed.  Not  as  in  the  days  of  Jesus  and  the  apostles  were 
these  denounced  and  proscribed  by  the  ecclesiastical  rulers  and  leaders. 
Recollecting  what  occurred  at  the  origin  of  the  Church,  full  of  faith  in 
the  supernatural  powers  which  were  thought  still  to  reside  in  it,  men 
were  on  the  lookout  for  startling  manifestations  of  them.  There  was 
a  previous  habit  of  credulity  in  this  particular  direction.  The  same 
scepticism  which  is  deemed  reasonable  in  respect  to  stories  of  miracles 
performed  by  Dominicans  or  Franciscans,  where  the  rival  interests 


APPENDIX 


423 


of  the  two  orders  are  involved,  is  natural  in  regard  to  wonders  said  to 
have  been  wrought  in  behalf  of  a  creed  enthusiastically  cherished.  In 
Galilee,  Judea,  and  the  various  provinces  of  the  Roman  Empire, 
Christianity  was  a  new  religion.  It  was  at  the  start  an  unpopular 
religion,  in  a  struggle  against  widespread,  bitter  prejudice.  The 
whole  atmosphere  was  thus  totally  different  from  that  which  prevailed 
in  the  middle  ages,  or  even  in  the  Roman  Empire,  after  the  Gospel  had 
succeeded  in  gaining  hundreds  of  thousands  of  converts. 

3.  Motives  to  fraud,  which  justly  excite  suspicion  in  the  case  of  many 
of  the  ecclesiastical  miracles,  did  not  exist  in  the  case  of  the  miracles 
of  the  Gospel. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  pious  fraud  played  a  prominent  part  in 
producing  the  tales  of  the  supernatural  which  are  interspersed  in  the 
biographies  of  the  saints.  Ecclesiastical  superiors  have  often  given 
a  free  rein  to  popular  credulity,  on  the  maxim  that  the  end  sanctifies 
the  means.  Where  positive  trickery  has  not  been  practised,  circum¬ 
stances  have  been  concealed,  which,  if  known,  would  have  stripped 
many  a  transaction  of  the  miraculous  aspect  which  it  wore  in  the  eyes 
of  the  ignorant.  The  same  spirit  that  gave  rise  to  the  medieval 
forgeries,  of  which  the  Pseudo-Isidorian  decretals  are  a  conspicuous 
example,  was  capable  of  conniving  at  numberless  deceits  which  served 
to  bolster  up  sacerdotal  pretensions.  In  order  that  an  individual  may 
be  enrolled  as  a  saint,  and  invoked  in  this  character,  it  has  been  held 
to  be  indispensable  that  he  should  have  wrought  miracles.  Miracles 
are  held  to  be  a  badge  of  sainthood.  It  is  easy  to  conceive,  not  only 
what  a  stimulus  this  theory  must  have  afforded  to  the  devout  imagina¬ 
tion,  but  also  what  conscious  exaggeration  and  wilful  invention  must 
have  sprung  out  of  such  a  tenet. 

When  we  enter  the  company  of  Christ  and  the  apostles,  we  find  that 
this  incentive  to  the  invention  of  miracles  is  utterly  absent.  We  find, 
rather,  the  deepest  antipathy  to  every  species  of  deceit  and  fraud. 

4.  A  great  number  of  the  Roman  Catholic  miracles  can  be  explained 
by  natural  causes,  without  any  impeachment  of  the  honesty  of  the 
narrators.  Frequently,  natural  events  of  no  uncommon  occurrence  are 
viewed  as  supernatural.  The  physical  effect  of  vigils,  and  fastings,  and 
pilgrimages,  on  the  maladies  of  those  who  resorted  to  these  practices, 
was,  no  doubt,  in  many  cases  salutary.  As  the  body  acts  on  the  mind, 
so  the  mind  powerfully  affects  the  body.  Heated  imagination,  ardent 
faith,  the  confident  hope  of  relief,  may  produce  physical  effects  of  an 
extraordinary  character.  There  is  a  variety  of  nervous  disorders  which 
are  cured  by  a  sudden  shock  which  turns  feeling  into  a  new  channel. 
Mohammed  was  a  victim  of  hysteria  attended  by  catalepsy.  Especially 
when  medical  knowledge  was  scanty,  exceptional  conditions  of  mind 
and  body  were  easily  mistaken  for  supernatural  phenomena. 

If  the  miracles  of  the  Gospels  consisted  only  of  visions,  or  of  the 


424 


APPENDIX 


cure  of  less  aggravated  cases  of  demoniacal  possession,  or  of  the  healing 
of  a  limited  class  of  diseases  which  spring  mainly  from  nervous  derange¬ 
ment,  there  might  be  no  occasion  for  referring  them  to  supernatural 
agency.  But  such  miracles  as  healing,  by  a  touch,  of  one  born  blind, 
the  cure  of  the  lunatic  at  Gadara,  the  multiplication  of  the  loaves,  the 
conversion  of  water  into  wine,  the  raising  of  the  son  of  the  widow  of 
Nain,  and  of  Lazarus,  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  himself,  baffle  attempts 
at  naturalistic  solution.  If  miracles  such  as  these  are  admitted  on  the 
ground  of  the  testimony  to  them,  in  connection  with  the  exalted  char¬ 
acter  of  Christ  and  with  the  doctrine  of  Christianity,  it  is  alike  unrea¬ 
sonable  and  profitless  to  resort  to  any  naturalistic  explanation  of  visions 
and  cures,  some  of  which,  considered  by  themselves,  might  perhaps  be 
accounted  for  by  that  method.  A  line  of  demarcation  between  two  sets 
of  Gospel  miracles  is  drawn  without  any  historical  warrant.  If  certain 
of  them  do  not  of  necessity  carry  us  beyond  the  limit  of  known  physio¬ 
logical  and  psychological  causes,  and  if  this  boundary  is  not  strictly 
definable,  others  there  are,  equally  well  attested,  which  do  undeniably 
lie  beyond  this  limit,  and,  if  the  phenomena  are  admitted,  must  be 
referred  to  the  interposition  of  God. 

5.  The  incompetence  of  the  witnesses  to  ecclesiastical  miracles,  as  a 
rule,  is  a  decisive  reason  for  discrediting  their  accounts.  We  do  not 
include  under  this  head  an  intention  to  deceive.  Reports  of  pagan  and 
ecclesiastical  miracles  frequently  rest  on  no  contemporary  evidence.  It 
was  more  than  a  century  after  the  death  of  Apollonius  of  Tyana  when 
Philostratus  wrote  his  life.  Sixteen  years  after  the  death  of  Ignatius 
Loyola,  Ribadeneira  wrote  his  biography  At  that  time  he  knew  of  no 
miracles  performed  by  his  hero.  St.  Francis  Xavier  himself  makes  but 
one  or  two  references  to  wonders  wrought  by  him  :  and  these  occur¬ 
rences  do  not  necessarily  imply  anything  miraculous.  In  the  case  of 
an  ancient  saint,  Gregory  Thaumaturgus,  the  life  that  we  possess  was 
written  long  after  his  time  by  Gregory  Nyssa.  Boniface,  the  apostle  to 
the  Germans,  and  Ansgar,  the  apostle  to  the  Scandinavians,  do  not 
themselves  claim  to  be  miracle-workers.  It  is  others  who  make  the 
claim  for  them.  Of  the  string  of  miracles  which  Bede  furnishes,  there 
are  few,  if  any,  which  he  affirms  to  have  occurred  within  his  personal 
knowledge. 

Where  there  are  contemporary  narratives,  it  is  evident,  generally,  that 
the  chroniclers  are  too  deficient  in  the  habit  of  accurate  observation  to 
be  trusted.  This  want  of  carefulness  is  manifest  in  what  they  have  to 
say  of  ordinary  matters.  Dr.  Arnold  gives  an  example  of  the  inac¬ 
curacy  of  Bede.1  The  Saxon  chronicler  describes  a  striking  phenome¬ 
non  on  the  southern  coast  of  England  in  such  a  way  that  one  who  is 
familiar  with  it  would  be  quite  unable  to  recognize  it  from  this  author’s 


1  Lectures  on  Modern  Llistory  (Am.  ed.),  p.  128. 


APPENDIX 


425 


description.  Where  the  observation  of  natural  objects  is  so  careless, 
how  can  we  expect  a  correct  account  of  phenomena  which  are  taken  for 
miraculous?  Excited  feeling,  on  the  watch  for  marvels,  in  minds  not 
in  the  least  trained  to  strict  observation,  renders  testimony  to  a  great 
extent  worthless. 

Now,  who  were  the  original  witnesses  of  the  miracles  of  Jesus?  As 
Cardinal  Newman  has  said,  “  They  were  very  far  from  a  dull  or  ignorant 
race.  The  inhabitants  of  a  maritime  and  border  country  (as  Galilee 
was)  ;  engaged,  moreover,  in  commerce  ;  composed  of  natives  of  vari¬ 
ous  countries,  and  therefore,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  acquainted 
with  more  than  one  language  —  have  necessarily  their  intellects  sharp¬ 
ened,  and  their  minds  considerably  enlarged,  and  are  of  all  men  least 
disposed  to  acquiesce  in  marvellous  tales.  Such  a  people  must  have 
examined  before  they  suffered  themselves  to  be  excited  in  the  degree 
which  the  Evangelists  describe.11  Their  conviction,  be  it  observed,  was 
no  “  bare  and  indolent  assent  to  facts  which  they  might  have  thought 
antecedently  probable,  or  not  improbable,11  but  a  great  change  in  prin¬ 
ciple  and  mode  of  life,  and  such  a  change  as  involved  the  sacrifice  of 
every  earthly  good.  There  is  a  vast  difference  between  the  dull  assent 
of  superstitious  minds,  the  impressions  of  unreflecting  devotees,  and 
that  positive  faith  which  transformed  the  character  of  the  first  disciples, 
and  moved  them  to  forsake  their  kindred,  and  to  lay  down  their  lives,  in 
attestation  of  the  truth  of  their  testimony.  A  conviction  on  the  part 
of  such  persons,  and  attended  by  consequences  like  these,  must  have  had 
its  origin  in  an  observation  of  facts  about  which  there  could  be  no 
mistake. 

6.  The  Gospel  miracles,  unlike  the  ecclesiastical,  were  none  of  them 
merely  tentative,  unsuccessful,  or  of  doubtful  reality. 

In  ancient  times  the  temple  of  Aesculapius  was  thronged  by  persons 
in  quest  of  healing  at  the  hands  of  the  God.  No  one  could  pretend 
that  more  than  a  fraction  of  these  votaries  were  actually  healed.  Of 
the  multitude  who  failed  of  the  benefit  there  was  no  mention  or  memory. 

To  come  down  to  a  later  day,  many  thousands  were  annually  touched 
for  the  scrofula  by  the  English  kings.  Some  recovered ;  and  their 
recovery,  no  doubt,  was  blazoned  abroad.  But,  of  the  generality  of 
those  who  thus  received  the  royal  touch,  there  is  not  the  slightest  proof 
that  it  was  followed  by  a  recovery.  So,  elsewhere,  among  those  to 
whom  miraculous  power  has  been  attributed,  the  instances  of  apparent 
success  were  connected  with  uncounted  failures  of  which  no  record  is 
preserved.  Even  in  the  cases  where  it  is  loudly  claimed  that  there  was 
every  appearance  of  miracles,  as  in  certain  of  the  wonders  at  the  tomb 
of  the  Abbe  Paris,  it  is  found  that  some  have  been  only  partially  relieved 
of  their  maladies,  or  have  experienced  soon  a  recurrence  of  them. 

Mark  the  contrast  presented  by  the  miracles  of  the  Gospel.  They 
were  performed  by  a  definite  class  of  persons.  They  were  “the  signs 


426 


APPENDIX 


of  an  apostle.”  The  main  point,  however,  is  that  there  were  no  excep¬ 
tions,  none  on  whom  the  wonder-working  power  failed  of  its  effect. 
There  were  no  abortive  experiments.  All  whom  Jesus  attempted  to 
heal  were  healed.  None  went  away  as  they  came.  None  went  away 
with  painful  symptoms  alleviated,  while  the  disorders  were  not  removed. 
Had  such  instances  of  failure  occurred,  they  would  not  have  escaped 
the  attention  of  the  apostles  and  of  their  enemies.  Confidence  in 
Christ  would  have  been  weakened,  if  not  subverted.  In  accounting 
for  the  Gospel  miracles,  the  supposition  of  accident  is  thus  precluded. 
We  do  not  reason  from  occasional  coincidences. 

7.  The  grotesque  character  of  so  large  a  number  of  the  ecclesiastical 
miracles  awakens  a  just  presumption  against  them  as  a  class. 

A  miracle  emanates  from  the  power  of  God.  But  it  will  not  be,  for 
that  reason,  at  variance  with  his  other  attributes.  As  far  as  an  alleged 
miracle  appears  to  be  unworthy  of  God  in  any  particular,  its  title  to  be 
credited  is  weakened. 

The  miracles  in  the  apocryphal  Gospels  (such  as  that  of  the  throne 
of  Herod,  drawn  out  to  its  right  length  by  the  child  Jesus,  to  remedy  a 
blunder  of  Joseph  in  making  it)  give  no  unfair  idea  of  the  style  of 
many  narratives  in  the  legends  of  the  Church.  Among  the  miracles 
attributed  to  Thomas  a  Becket  is  the  story  that  the  eyes  of  a  priest  of 
Nantes,  who  doubted  them,  fell  from  their  sockets.  “  In  remembrance,” 
says  Froude,  “  of  his  old  sporting  days,  the  archbishop  would  mend 
the  broken  wings  and  legs  of  hawks  which  had  suffered  from  herons.” 
“  Dead  lambs,  pigs,  and  geese  were  restored  to  life,  to  silence  Saddu- 
cees  who  doubted  the  resurrection.”  1  The  biographers  of  Xavier  relate 
that,  having  washed  the  sores  of  a  poor  invalid,  he  drank  the  water, 
and  the  sores  were  forthwith  healed.  Even  St.  Bernard,  preaching  on 
a  summer  day  in  a  church  where  the  people  were  annoyed  by  flies, 
excommunicates  these  winged  insects ;  and  in  the  morning  they  are 
found  to  be  all  dead,  and  are  swept  out  in  heaps.  It  would  be  unjust 
to  say  that  trivial,  ludicrous,  or  disgusting  circumstances  belong  to  all 
ecclesiastical  miracles.  But  such  features  are  so  common  that  they 
tend  to  affix  a  corresponding  character  to  the  set  of  wonders,  taken  as 
a  whole,  to  which  they  pertain. 

That  the  miracles  of  the  Bible  have  a  dignity  and  beauty  peculiar  to 
themselves  is  acknowledged  by  disbelievers  ;  for  instance,  by  the  author 
of  Supernatural  Religion .  If  any  of  them  are  thought  to  wear  a  dif¬ 
ferent  look,  they  are  exceptions.  “  Hence,”  observes  Cardinal  Newman, 
u  the  Scripture  accounts  of  Eve’s  temptation  by  the  serpent,  of  the 
speaking  of  Balaam’s  ass,  of  Jonah  and  the  whale,  and  of  the  devils 
sent  into  the  herd  of  swine  are  by  themselves  more  or  less  improbable, 

1  Dr.  E.  A.  Abbott’s  work  on  Becket  furnishes  a  variety  of  examples  equally 
grotesque  and  in  themselves  unworthy  of  credit.  See,  e.g.,  St.  Thomas  of 
Canterbury,  I.  265  seq.  See  also  Morris’s  Life  of  Becket,  c.  xxxiv. 


APPENDIX 


427 


being  unequal  in  dignity  to  the  rest.”  “They  are  then  supported,”  the 
same  author  holds,  “  by  the  system  in  which  they  are  found,  as  being  a 
few  out  of  a  multitude,  and  therefore  but  exceptions  (and,  as  we  sup¬ 
pose,  but  apparent  exceptions)  to  the  general  rule.”  Whether  this  be 
so  or  not,  the  remark  implies  that  their  exceptional  character  makes 
it  necessary  that  they  should  have  an  extraordinary  support  if  they  are 
to  be  credited.  The  generality  of  the  miracles  of  Scripture  are  of  an 
elevated  character.  They  are  at  a  wide  remove  in  this  respect  from 
the  common  run  of  pagan  and  ecclesiastical  miracles.  The  contrast 
is  like  that  of  a  genuine  coin  with  a  clumsy  counterfeit. 

8.  The  evidential  value  of  the  miracles  of  the  Gospel  is  not  weakened, 
even  if  it  be  admitted  that  miraculous  events  may  have  occasionally 
occurred  in  later  ages. 

The  restoration  of  the  sick  in  response  to  prayer  is  commonly 
through  no  visible  or  demonstrable  exception  to  the  unaided  operation 
of  natural  law.  Yet  no  one  deserves  contempt  for  holding  that,  in 
certain  exceptional  instances,  the  supernatural  agency  discovers  itself 
by  evidence  palpable  to  the  senses.  So  discreet  an  historical  critic  as 
Neander  will  not  deny  that  St.  Bernard  may  have  been  the  instrument 
of  effecting  cures  properly  miraculous.  It  is  true,  as  was  suggested 
above,  that  missionary  work  is  something  to  which  human  powers  are 
adequate,  and  which  requires  no  other  aid  from  above  than  the  silent, 
invisible  operation  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  Yet  Edmund  Burke,  speaking 
of  the  introduction  of  Christianity  into  Britain  by  Augustine  and  his 
associates,  remarks,  “  It  is  by  no  means  impossible  that,  for  an  end  so 
worthy,  Providence  on  some  occasions  might  directly  have  interfered.” 
“  I  should  think  it  very  presumptuous  to  say,”  writes  F.  D.  Maurice, 
“  that  it  has  never  been  needful,  in  the  modern  history  of  the  world,  to 
break  the  idols  of  sense  and  experience  by  the  same  method  which 
was  sanctioned  in  the  days  of  old.”  Those  who,  like  the  writers  just 
quoted,  hold  that  miraculous  events  have  not  been  wholly  wanting  in 
later  ages,  cannot  maintain  that  they  have  occurred  under  such  condi¬ 
tions  of  uniformity  and  the  like,  as  distinguish  the  miracles  of  Christ 
and  the  apostles.  The  most  that  can  be  claimed  is  that  sometimes 
they  have  occurred  in  answer  to  prayer,  —  a  form  of  answer  on  which 
the  petitioner  has  never  been  able  to  count.  The  judicious  student 
who  surveys  the  entire  history  of  miraculous  pretension  will  be  slow  to 
admit  the  miraculous  in  particular  instances  of  the  kind  described, 
without  the  application  of  strict  tests  of  evidence.  He  will  bear  in 
mind  that  the  great,  the  principal  design  of  the  miracle  is  to  serve  as  at 
once  a  constituent  and  proof  of  revelation. 

A  particular  examination  of  the  alleged  miracles  of  the  early  age 
of  the  Church  is  precluded  by  the  limits  of  the  present  Note.  The 
following  points  are  specially  worthy  of  attention  :  — 


428 


APPENDIX 


1.  The  miracles  said  to  have  been  performed  in  the  second  and 
third  centuries  are  far  less  marked  and  less  numerous  than  those 
referred  to  in  the  two  centuries  that  followed,  —  a  fact  the  reverse  of 
what  we  should  expect  if  these  narrations  were  founded  in  truth. 

2.  The  same  writers  —  as  Origen,  Tertullian,  Eusebius,  Augustine  — 
who  record  contemporary  miracles,  imply  in  other  passages  that  the 
age  of  miracles  had  gone  by,  and  that  their  own  times  were  in  marked 
contrast,  in  this  respect,  with  the  era  of  the  apostles. 

3.  The  miracles  related  by  the  Fathers  are  mostly  exorcisms,  the 
healing  of  the  sick,  and  visions  ;  that  is,  occurrences  where  natural 
agencies  are  most  easily  mistaken  for  supernatural.  Miracles  in  which 
this  error  is  impossible  lack  sufficient  attestation.1 

The  true  view  on  this  subject  appears  to  be  that  miraculous  manifes¬ 
tations  in  the  Church  ceased  gradually.  No  sharp  line  of  demarcation 
can  be  drawn,  marking  off  the  age  of  miracles  from  the  subsequent 
period,  when  the  operation  of  the  Divine  Providence  and  Spirit  was  no 
longer  palpably  distinguished  from  the  movements  of  natural  law. 

As  we  advance  into  the  fourth  century,  called  the  Nicene  age,  we 
meet  with  a  notable  increase  in  the  number  of  alleged  miracles.  Yet 
Chrysostom,  Ambrose,  Augustine,  speak  of  the  apostolic  age,  as  distin¬ 
guished  from  their  own,  as  having  been  a  period  marked  by  miracles. 
Notwithstanding  the  high  merits  of  the  authors  of  the  Nicene  era,  they 
discover,  more  and  more,  the  artificial,  rhetorical  tone  which  had  now 
come  to  infect  literature.  There  was  a  habit  of  thought  and  style  which 
tends  to  breed  exaggeration.  It  was  a  period  of  decadence.  Relic- 
worship,  the  invocation  of  martyrs  and  saints,  and  like  superstitions 
established  themselves  in  the  Church,  and  the  alleged  miracles  were 
frequently  associated  with  these  customs.  A  spirit  of  credulity  gained 
ground.  The  evidence  for  most  of  the  post-apostolic  miracles  which 
the  Fathers  advert  to  melts  away  on  examination.  In  cases  where  there 
is  no  ground  for  distrusting  the  sincerity  of  the  narrator,  we  are  bound 
to  consider  whether  the  phenomena  which  one  of  the  Fathers  reports 
were  known  to  him  directly ;  and,  if  they  were,  whether  they  neces¬ 
sarily  involve  anything  miraculous,  —  whether  they  may  not  reasonably 
be  referred  to  hallucination,  or  to  some  other  source  of  unconscious 
illusion. 

As  an  example,  we  may  take  the  reports  of  miracles  which  Augustine 
has  collected  in  his  treatise  on  the  City  of  God.2  He  starts  with  a  ref¬ 
erence  to  the  objection  that  miracles  are  no  longer  wrought.  u  It  might 
be  replied,”  he  says,  “  that  they  are  no  longer  necessary,  as  they  were 
at  first.”  This  answer  is  in  keeping  with  other  statements  made  by 
him,  which  imply  that  no  such  miracles  were  wrought  in  his  time  as 

1  For  the  Patristic  passages  on  these  three  points,  see  Mozley’s  Bampton 
Lectures ,  pp.  195  seq.  2  Lib.  xxii. 


APPENDIX 


429 


were  done  by  Christ  and  the  apostles.  But  in  this  place  he  affirms 
that  miracles  are  wrought,  though  more  privately,  and  that  they  are  less 
widely  reported.  Many  of  those  to  which  he  refers  are  alleged  to  have 
been  performed  in  connection  with  the  relics  of  the  proto-martyr 
Stephen,  which,  as  was  claimed,  were  discovered  in  a.d.  415,  at  a  place 
called  Carphagamala,  in  Palestine,  through  information  given  by  Gama¬ 
liel,  the  Jewish  rabbi,  in  visions  to  Lucian,  a  priest  of  the  Church  there. 
A  portion  of  these  relics  found  their  way  to  Africa,  and  became  the 
centre  of  miraculous  phenomena,  the  details  of  which  are  given  by 
Augustine.  The  circumstances  of  the  finding  of  the  relics  are  so  im¬ 
probable  as  to  suggest  beforehand  a  legitimate  doubt  as  to  miraculous 
interpositions  in  connection  with  them.  But  Augustine  also  relates 
other  miracles  as  having  occurred  in  Africa.  The  first  is  described  at 
length  :  it  is  the  disappearance  of  a  fistula  from  the  body  of  a  man 
at  Carthage,  who  had  not  long  before  undergone  a  surgical  operation 
for  the  same  trouble.  This  event,  which  fills  Augustine  with  devout 
amazement,  is  easily  accounted  for  by  physicians  at  present,  without 
any  recourse  to  the  supernatural.  It  was  simply  ignorance  of  physi¬ 
ology  that  led  to  the  inference  that  it  was  a  miracle.  The  next  case  is 
that  of  Innocentia,  a  Christian  woman  in  the  same  city,  who  had  a 
cancer  on  one  of  her  breasts,  and  was  cured  by  the  sign  of  the  cross 
made  upon  it  by  the  first  woman  whom  she  saw  coming  out  of  the  bap¬ 
tistery,  of  whom  she  had  been  directed  in  a  dream  to  ask  this  favor. 
Here,  in  the  absence  of  a  more  particular  statement  of  the  circum¬ 
stances,  it  would  be  rash  to  suppose  a  miracle.  But  the  attestation  is 
in  this  case  singularly  deficient.  The  supposed  miracle  had  been  kept 
secret,  much  to  Augustine’s  indignation,  who  was  somehow  informed 
of  the  event,  and  reprimanded  the  woman  for  not  making  it  public. 
She  replied  that  she  had  not  kept  silence  on  the  subject.  But  Augus¬ 
tine  found,  on  inquiry,  that  the  women  who  were  best  acquainted  with 
her  “  knew  nothing  of  it,”  and  “listened  in  great  astonishment,”  when, 
at  his  instigation,  she  told  her  story.  How  remarkable  that  the  sud¬ 
den  deliverance  from  a  disorder  which  the  physicians  had  pronounced 
incurable  should  not  have  been  known  to  her  most  intimate  female 
acquaintance  !  Why  did  she  tell  Augustine  that  she  had  not  kept  it 
to  herself?  How  did  he  himself  find  it  out  ?  The  next  miracle  is  that 
of  “black,  woolly-haired  boys,”  who  appeared  to  a  gouty  doctor  and 
warned  him  not  to  be  baptized  that  year.  They  trod  on  his  feet,  and 
caused  him  the  acutest  pain.  He  knew  them  to  be  devils,  and  disobeyed 
them.  He  was  relieved  in  the  very  act  of  baptism,  and  did  not  suffer 
from  gout  afterward.  If  we  suppose  that  the  fact  was  well  attested, 
who  would  be  bold  enough  to  ascribe  it  to  a  miracle  ?  How  easy,  in  a 
multitude  of  cures  of  this  sort,  to  confound  the  antecedent  with  the 
cause,  the  post  hoc  with  the  propter  hocl  Several  of  the  miracles  which 
Augustine  had  gathered  into  his  net  are  of  a  grotesque  character,  as 


430 


APPENDIX 


that  which  provided  Florentius,  a  poor  tailor  of  Hippo,  with  a  new  coat, 
after  a  prayer  to  the  twenty  martyrs,  whose  shrine  was  near  at  hand. 
Who  was  the  cook  that  found  the  gold  ring  in  the  fish’s  belly?  and  who 
was  it  that  interrogated  her  on  the  subject?  There  are  three  or  four 
instances  of  the  raising  of  the  dead  which  are  found  in  Augustine’s  list. 
But  of  neither  of  these  does  he  pretend  to  have  been  an  eye-witness ; 
nor,  if  the  circumstances  are  credited  in  the  form  in  which  they  are 
given,  is  there  anything  to  prove  that  death  had  actually  taken  place. 
A  swoon,  or  the  temporary  suspension  of  the  powers  of  life,  may  have 
been  in  each  instance  all  that  really  occurred. 

Another  miracle  in  Augustine’s  catalogue  is  that  of  the  martyrs  of 
Milan,  which  occurred  while  he  was  in  that  city,  and  which  is  also 
described  circumstantially  by  Ambrose,  the  celebrated  bishop.  A  vio¬ 
lent  conflict  was  raging  between  Ambrose  and  the  mass  of  the  populace, 
on  the  one  side,  and  the  Arian  Empress  Justina,  the  widow  of  Valentin- 
ian  I.,  with  her  following,  on  the  other.  Ambrose  had  refused  her 
demand  that  one  church  edifice  should  be  set  apart  for  Arian  worship. 
The  populace,  who  were  in  full  sympathy  with  their  bishop,  were  in  a 
high  state  of  excitement.  A  new  church  was  to  be  dedicated,  and  they 
were  eager  for  relics  with  which  to  enrich  it.  Then  follows  the  unex¬ 
pected  discovery  of  the  remains  of  two  utterly  forgotten  martyrs,  Prota- 
sius  and  Gervasius,  with  fresh  blood  upon  them,  and  able  to  shake  the 
earth  in  the  neighborhood  where  they  lay.  As  they  are  transported 
through  the  city,  a  blind  butcher  touches  the  fringe  of  the  pall  that 
covers  them,  and  at  once  receives  his  sight.  We  are  not  willing  to  join 
with  Isaac  Taylor  in  imputing  to  Ambrose  himself  complicity  in  a  fraud. 
Yet  the  circumstances  connected  with  the  discovery  of  the  bodies  indi¬ 
cate  that  fraud  and  superstitious  imagination  were  combined  in  those 
who  were  most  active  in  the  matter.  The  blindness  of  the  butcher  was 
not  congenital.  It  was  a  disorder  which  had  obliged  him  to  retire  from 
his  business.  But  oculists  know  well  that  cases  of  total  or  partial  blind¬ 
ness  are  sometimes  instantly  relieved.  What  was  the  special  cause  of 
the  disorder  in  this  instance  ?  Had  there  been  symptoms  of  amend¬ 
ment  before  ?  Was  the  cure  complete  at  the  moment  ?  As  long  as  we 
are  unable  to  answer  these  and  like  questions,  it  is  unwise  to  assume 
that  there  was  a  miracle.  We  miss  in  the  accounts,  be  it  observed,  the 
sobriety  of  the  Gospel  narratives.  They  are  surcharged  with  the  florid 
rhetoric  to  which  we  have  adverted. 

The  evidence  for  most  of  those  post-apostolic  miracles  which  are 
more  commonly  referred  to  melts  away  on  examination.  The  miracle 
of  “  the  thundering  legion,”  whose  prayers  are  said  to  have  saved  the 
army  of  Marcus  Aurelius  (a.d.  174),  and  to  have  thus  turned  him  from 
his  hostility  to  Christianity,  is  one  of  these.  But  no  such  effect  was 
produced  on  the  emperor’s  mind,  since  he  persecuted  the  Christians 
afterwards  (a.d.  178).  The  tempest  of  rain  which  brought  relief  to  the 


APPENDIX 


431 


army,  the  heathen  asserted  to  be  the  consequence  of  their  own  prayers 
to  Jupiter.  If  it  was  true  that  a  sudden  shower  of  the  kind  described  in 
the  story  followed  upon  the  supplications  of  the  Christian  soldiers,  we 
should  hardly  be  justified  in  pronouncing  it  a  miracle  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  term.  The  story  of  the  cross  with  an  inscription  upon  it, 
seen  by  Constantine  in  the  sky,  Eusebius  heard  from  the  emperor  not 
until  twenty-six  years  after  the  event,  and  was  not  acquainted  with  it 
when,  with  the  best  opportunities  for  informing  himself,  he  wrote  his 
Church  History  (about  a.d.  325).  That  Constantine  had  a  dream  in 
the  night  such  as  Lactantius  describes,  is  not  improbable.  It  is  possible 
that  on  the  day  previous,  a  parhelion,  or  some  similar  phenomenon, 
may  have  seemed  to  his  excited  and  superstitious  feeling  a  cross  of  light. 
Under  the  circumstances,  and  considering  the  defects  in  the  testimony, 
the  natural  explanation  is  far  the  most  probable.  None  of  the  post- 
apostolic  miracles  appears  to  have  a  stronger  attestation  than  that  of 
the  breaking-out  of  fire  from  the  foundations  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem, 
when  the  workmen,  by  the  order  of  the  Emperor  Julian,  set  about  the 
task  of  rebuilding  that  edifice.  The  fact  is  stated  by  a  contemporary 
heathen  writer  of  good  repute,  Ammianus  Marcellinus.  Notwithstand¬ 
ing  the  grave  historical  difficulties  which  have  been  suggested  by  Lard- 
ner  and  others,  it  seems  most  reasonable  to  conclude  that  some  startling 
phenomenon  of  the  kind  actually  occurred.  Neander  says,  “  A  sign 
coming  from  God  is  here  certainly  not  to  be  mistaken,  although  natural 
causes  also  cooperate.”1  Guizot,  in  his  notes  on  Gibbon,  explains  the 
occurrence  by  referring  it  to  the  explosion  of  the  subterranean  gases 
suddenly  liberated  by  the  workmen.  Although  the  admission  of  a 
miracle  in  such  a  case  detracts  nothing  from  the  peculiar  function  and 
evidential  force  of  the  miracles  of  Scripture,  we  cannot  feel  obliged  to 
call  in  here  supernatural  agency.  Natural  causes  of  a  physical  nature, 
together  with  the  fears  and  fancies  of  the  laborers,  and  the  exaggerating 
imagination  of  reporters,  suffice  to  explain  the  alarm  that  was  created, 
and  the  cessation  of  the  work. 

The  standing  argument  at  the  present  day  against  the  credibility 
of  the  Evangelists  is  the  precedent  afforded  by  the  biographers  of  “  the 
saints,”  and  of  the  incredible  marvels  which  they  mingle  with  authentic 
history.  To  some  it  is  no  matter  of  surprise  that  the  apostles  should 
be  utterly  deceived  in  this  branch  of  their  testimony.  Thus  Matthew 
Arnold  boldly  admits,  that,  if  we  had  the  original  reports  of  eye¬ 
witnesses,  we  should  not  have  a  miracle  less  than  we  have  now.2  Very 
different  is  the  judgment  of  a  great  historical  scholar,  Niebuhr.  He 
refers  to  the  critical  spirit  in  which  he  had  come  to  the  study  of  the 

1  Church  History ,  vol.  ii.  pp.  69,  70. 

2  Contemporary  Review ,  vol.  xxvi.  p.  697. 


432 


APPENDIX 


New  Testament  histories  and  to  the  imperfections  which  he  believed 
himself  to  find  in  them.  He  adds :  “  Here,  as  in  every  historical 
subject,  when  I  contemplated  the  immeasurable  gulf  between  the  nar¬ 
rative  and  the  facts  narrated,  this  disturbed  me  no  further.  He  whose 
earthly  life  and  sorrows  were  depicted  had  for  me  a  perfectly  real 
existence,  and  his  whole  history  had  the  same  reality,  even  if  it  were 
not  related  with  literal  exactness  in  any  single  point.  Hence,  also,  the 
fundamental  fact  of  miracles,  which,  according  to  my  conviction,  must 
be  conceded,  unless  we  adopt  the  not  merely  incomprehensible  but 
absurd  hypothesis  that  the  Ploliest  was  a  deceiver,  and  his  disciples 
either  dupes  or  liars  ;  and  that  deceivers  had  preached  a  holy  religion, 
in  which  self-renunciation  is  everything,  and  in  which  there  is  nothing 
tending  toward  the  erection  of  a  priestly  rule,  —  nothing  that  can  be 
acceptable  to  vicious  inclinations.  As  regards  a  miracle  in  the  strictest 
sense,  it  really  only  requires  an  unprejudiced  and  penetrating  study 
of  nature  to  see  that  those  related  are  as  far  as  possible  from  absurdity, 
and  a  comparison  with  legends,  or  the  pretended  miracles  of  other 
religions,  to  perceive  by  what  a  different  spirit  they  are  animated.”  1 

u  To  perceive  by  what  a  different  spirit  they  are  animated  11  —  it  is 
just  this  which  Renan  fails  to  see  in  the  legends  of  the  saints.  It  is 
found  impossible  to  dispute  the  fact  that  testimony  substantially 
equivalent  to  the  contents  of  the  Gospels  was  given  by  the  apostles. 
The  grand  hypothesis  of  a  post-apostolic  mythology,  set  up  by  Strauss, 
is  given  up.  That  the  apostles  were  wilful  deceivers,  if  it  be  sometimes 
insinuated,  is  felt  to  be  a  weak  position.  This  old  fortification  of  un¬ 
belief  is  abandoned.  What,  then,  shall  be  said?  Why,  answers 
Renan,  they  were,  like  the  followers  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  credulous, 
romantic  enthusiasts.  The  frequency  with  which  he  reverts  to  the 
lives  of  St.  Francis  indicates  what  is  the  real  source  and  prop  of  his 
theory  in  his  own  mind.  It  is  well  to  look  at  this  pretended  parallel 
more  narrowly. 

We  have  two  lives  of  St.  Francis  by  personal  followers,  —  one,  by 
Thomas  de  Celano  ;  and  another,  by  the  “  three  companions.11  Another 
life  is  from  the  pen  of  Bonaventura,  who  was  five  years  old  when  the 
saint  died.2  The  moment  one  takes  up  these  biographies,  he  finds 
himself  in  an  atmosphere  different  from  that  of  nature  and  real  life. 
He  is  transported  into  dream-land.  Feeling  drowns  perception. 
Everything  is  suffused  with  emotion.  We  are  in  an  atmosphere 
where  neither  discriminating  judgment  nor  cool  observation  is  to  be 
looked  for.  Here  is  an  example  of  the  strain  of  eulogy  in  which  these 
disciples  of  St.  Francis,  intoxicated  with  admiration,  indulge:  “Oh, 
how  beautiful,  how  splendid,  how  glorious,  he  appeared,  in  innocence 

1  Memoir  of  Niebuhr  (Am.  ed.),  p.  236. 

2  These  lives  are  in  the  Acta  Sanctorum  (ed.  nov.),  vol.  90,  pp.  683,  798. 


APPENDIX 


433 


of  life  and  in  simplicity  of  language,  in  purity  of  heart,  in  delight  in 
God,  in  fraternal  love,  in  odorous  obedience,  in  complaisant  devoted¬ 
ness,  in  angelic  aspect !  Sweet  in  manners,  placid  in  nature,  affable  in 
speech,  most  apt  in  exhortation,  most  faithful  in  trusts,  prudent  in 
counsel,  efficient  in  action,  gracious  in  all  things,  serene  in  mind,  sweet 
in  spirit,  sober  in  temper,  steadfast  in  contemplation,  persevering  in 
esteem,  and  in  all  things  the  same,  swift  to  show  favor,  slow  to  anger,” 
etc.1  This  is  only  one  of  the  outbursts  of  ecstatic  admiration  for  “  the 
morning  star,”  the  luminary  “  more  radiant  than  the  sun,”  in  which 
these  chroniclers  break  out.  When  we  turn  to  the  saint  who  is 
the  object  of  all  this  fervor,  we  find  in  his  character,  to  be  sure,  much 
to  respect.  There  is  “  sweetness  and  light  ” ;  but  the  light  is  by  far 
the  minor  factor.  The  practice  of  asceticism  rendered  his  bodily 
state  at  all  times  abnormal  and  unhealthy.  To  lie  on  the  ground, 
with  a  log  for  a  pillow ;  to  deny  himself  the  refreshment  of  sleep 
when  it  was  most  needed ;  to  choose,  on  principle,  the  coarsest  food, 
and  to  insist  on  its  being  cooked,  if  cooked  at  all,  in  a  way  that  made 
it  as  unpalatable  and  indigestible  as  possible ;  to  weep  every  day  so 
copiously  that  his  eyesight  was  nearly  destroyed,  and  then,  as  always 
when  he  was  ill,  to  take  remedies  with  great  reluctance,  if  he  took  them 
at  all  —  these  customs  were  not  favorable  to  sanity  of  mental  action 
any  more  than  to  soundness  of  body.  They  coexisted  with  attractive 
virtues ;  they  sprang  from  pure  motives ;  but  they  were  none  the  less 
excesses  of  superstition.  Persuaded  on  one  occasion,  when  he  was 
enfeebled  by  illness,  to  eat  of  a  fowl,  he  demonstrated  his  penitence  by 
causing  himself  to  be  led,  wfith  a  rope  round  his  neck,  like  a  criminal, 
through  the  streets  of  Assisi,  by  one  of  his  followers,  who  shouted  all 
the  time,  “  Behold  the  glutton!” 

The  sort  of  miracles  ascribed  to  St.  Francis,  and  the  measure  of  cre¬ 
dence  which  the  stories  of  them  deserve,  may  be  understood  from  what 
is  said  of  his  miraculous  dealing  with  the  lower  animals.  On  a  journey, 
leaving  his  companions  in  the  road,  he  stepped  aside  into  the  midst  of  a 
concourse  of  doves,  crows,  and  other  birds.  They  were  not  frightened 
at  his  approach.  Whereupon  he  delivered  to  them  a  sermon,  in  which 
he  addressed  them  as  “  my  brother-birds,”  and  gave  them  wholesome 
counsel  —  supposing  them  able  to  comprehend  it  —  respecting  their 
duties  to  God.  But  we  are  assured  that  they  did  comprehend  it,  and 
signified  their  approbation  by  stretching  their  necks,  opening  their 
mouths,  and  flapping  their  wings.  Having  received  from  the  saint  the 
benediction,  and  permission  to  go,  this  wdnged  congregation  flew  aw'ay. 
This  is  only  one  in  a  catalogue  of  wonders  of  the  same  kind.  Fishes, 
as  well  as  birds,  listened  to  preaching,  and  waited  for  the  discourse  to 
conclude.  We  can  readily  believe  Celano,  when  he  says  that  St.  Fran¬ 
cis  was  a  man  of  “  the  utmost  fervor,”  and  had  a  feeling  of  “  piety  and 

1  Acta  Sanctorum ,  ut  supra,  p.  716. 


434 


APPENDIX 


gentleness  towards  irrational  creatures.”  He  was  probably  one  of  those 
who  have  a  remarkable  power  of  dispelling  the  fear,  and  winning  the 
confidence,  of  animals.  Incidents  where  this  natural  power  was  exer¬ 
cised  were  magnified,  by  the  fancy  of  devotees,  into  the  tales,  a  sample 
of  which  has  been  given.  A  like  discount  from  other  miraculous  narra¬ 
tives  resting  on  the  same  testimony  would  reduce  the  events  which 
they  relate  to  the  dimensions  of  natural,  though  it  may  be  remarkable, 
occurrences.  It  is  needless  to  recount  these  alleged  miracles.  One  or 
two  will  suffice.  Travelling  together,  St.  Francis  and  his  followers  see 
in  the  road  a  purse,  apparently  stuffed  with  coins.  There  was  a  temp¬ 
tation  to  pick  it  up.  The  rule  of  poverty  was  in  imminent  peril.  The 
saint  warns  his  curious  disciple  that  the  devil  is  in  the  purse.  Finally, 
the  disciple,  after  prayer,  is  permitted  to  touch  it,  when  out  leaps  a 
serpent,  and  instantly  —  mirabile  dictul  —  serpent  and  purse  vanish. 
When  the  saint  came  to  die,  one  of  his  followers  beheld  his  soul,  as  it 
parted  from  the  body,  in  appearance  like  an  immense  luminous  star, 
shedding  its  radiance  over  many  waters,  borne  upon  a  white  cloud,  and 
ascending  straight  to  heaven. 

The  great  miracle  in  connection  with  St.  Francis  is  that  of  the  “stig¬ 
mata,”  or  the  marks  of  the  wounds  of  Christ,  which  the  Saviour  was 
thought  in  a  vision  to  have  imprinted  upon  his  body.  From  the  hour 
when  a  vision  of  the  crucified  Christ  was  vouchsafed  him,  as  he  thought, 
while  he  was  in  prayer  before  his  image,  “his  heart,”  say  the  “ tres 
socii ',”  was  wounded  and  melted  at  the  recollection  of  the  Lord’s  pas¬ 
sion  ;  so  that  he  carried  while  he  lived  the  wounds  —  stigmata  — -  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  in  his  heart.  He  sought  in  all  ways  to  be  literally  conformed 
to  the  Lord  as  a  sufferer.  For  example,  remembering  that  the  Virgin 
had  no  place  where  her  son  could  lay  his  head,  he  would  take  his  food 
from  the  table  where  he  was  dining,  carry  it  out,  and  eat  it  on  the 
ground.  It  was  his  constant  effort  to  bring  upon  himself  the  identical 
experiences  of  pain  and  sorrow  which  befell  Christ.  Especially  did  he 
concentrate  his  thoughts  in  intense  and  long-continued  meditation  on 
the  crucifixion.  There  is  a  considerable  number  of  other  instances  of 
stigmata  found  upon  the  body,  besides  that  of  St.  Francis.  The  scien¬ 
tific  solution,  which  has  high  authority  in  its  favor,  is  that  the  phenom¬ 
enon  in  question  is  the  result  of  the  mental  state  acting  by  a  physiological 
law  upon  the  body.  It  is  considered  to  be  one  effect  of  the  mysterious 
interaction  of  mind  and  body,  the  products  of  which,  when  body  and 
mind  are  in  a  morbid  condition,  are  exceptionally  remarkable. 

Before  leaving  our  subject,  let  the  reader  reflect  on  that  one  trait  of 
the  apostles  by  which  they  are  distinguished  from  other  witnesses  to 
alleged  miracles.  It  is  their  tr tit hf nines s.  Men  may  be  devout ;  they 
may  be  capable  of  exalted  emotions  ;  they  may  undertake  works  of 
self-sacrifice,  and  be  revered  for  their  saintly  tempers ;  and  yet  they 
may  lack  this  one  sterling  quality  on  which  the  worth  of  testimony 


APPENDIX 


435 


depends.  This  defect  may  not  be  conscious.  It  may  result  from  a 
passive,  uninquiring  temper.  It  may  grow  out  of  a  habit  of  seeing 
things  in  a  hazy  atmosphere  of  feeling,  in  which  all  things  are  refracted 
from  the  right -line.  But  the  apostles,  unlike  many  devotees  of  even 
Christian  ages,  were  truthful.  Without  this  habit  of  seeing  and  relating 
things  as  they  actually  occurred,  their  writings  would  never  have  exerted 
that  pure  influence  which  has  flowed  from  them.  Because  they  uttered 
“  words  of  truth  and  soberness,”  they  make  those  who  thoroughly  sym¬ 
pathize  with  the  spirit  of  their  writings  value  truth  above  all  things. 

And  there  is  one  proof  of  the  truth  of  the  apostles1  testimony  which 
can  be  appreciated  by  the  unlearned.  The  character  of  Jesus  as  he  is 
depicted  in  the  Gospels  is  too  unique  to  be  the  result  of  invention.  It 
is  the  image  of  a  perfection  too  transcendent  to  be  devised  by  the  wit 
of  man.  Yet  it  is  perfectly  self-consistent,  and  obviously  real  in  all  its 
traits.  In  him  the  natural  and  the  supernatural,  divine  authority  and 
human  feeling,  the  power  which  gives  life  to  the  dead  and  the  sympathy 
which  expresses  itself  in  tears,  blend  in  complete  accord.  This  portrait 
of  Christ  in  the  Gospels  is  evidently  drawn  from  the  life.  It  demon¬ 
strates  the  truth  of  the  Gospel  history. 

NOTE  22  (p.  343) 

It  is  not  uncommon  at  present  to  hear  it  asserted  or  insinuated  that 
religion,  and  the  Christian  religion  in  particular,  has  been  an  obstacle  in 
the  way  of  the  progress  of  natural  science,  including,  under  this  desig¬ 
nation,  the  various  departments  of  research  which  concern  themselves 
with  the  material  world.  Sometimes  Christianity  is  spoken  of  as  an 
enemy  still  formidable.  The  questions  which  the  naturalist  has  striven 
to  settle  by  observation  and  reasoning,  he  has  been  told  are  already 
determined,  once  for  all,  by  the  infallible  authority  of  the  Bible. 

The  general  allegation  is  not  without  plausibility.  It  is  not  a  pure 
fabrication.  There  are  facts  on  which  it  is  founded,  whatever  mistake 
and  whatever  exaggeration  are  carried  into  the  interpretation  of  them. 
That  in  the  name  of  religion,  in  past  times,  nearer  and  more  remote,  the 
legitimate  pursuits,  researches,  arguments,  and  hypotheses  of  physical  in¬ 
quirers  have  been  frowned  upon,  denounced,  and  proscribed  is  undeni¬ 
able.  In  antiquity,  prior  to  Christ,  science  was  not  without  its  persecuted 
votaries.  Anaxagoras  was  arraigned  before  an  Athenian  court  for  holding 
impious  physical  doctrine,  such  as  the  opinion  that  the  sun  is  an  incandes¬ 
cent  stone,  larger  than  the  Peloponnesus  ;  and  he  owed  his  deliverance  to 
the  friendship  and  the  eloquence  of  Pericles.  Passing  down  into  Chris¬ 
tian  times,  it  is  a  familiar  fact  that,  in  the  middle  ages,  the  students  who 
early  interested  themselves  in  chemical  experiments  —  whether  in  the 
hope  of  transmuting  the  baser  metals  into  gold,  or  for  some  better  reason 
—  were  suspected  of  having  entered  into  a  league  with  the  devil,  and  of 


436 


APPENDIX 


accomplishing  their  experiments  with  the  aid  of  this  dark  confederate. 
Even  Albert  the  Great,  the  teacher  of  Aquinas,  did  not  wholly  escape 
this  dangerous  suspicion.  At  a  later  day  Roger  Bacon  had  more  to 
endure  on  the  ground  of  analogous  imputations.  Turning  to  still  later 
times,  we  are  at  once  reminded  of  the  ecclesiastical  antagonism  to 
astronomy,  and  of  the  memorable  case  of  Galileo.  The  publication  of 
the  documents  connected  with  this  case  has  put  it  into  the  power  of 
every  candid  person,  who  will  give  the  requisite  attention  to  them,  to 
get  at  an  exact  knowledge  of  the  facts ;  and  it  has  put  it  out  of  the 
power  of  theological  partisans  to  conceal  or  distort  the  truth.  It  is  true 
that  much  is  still  said  of  the  Florentine  astronomer’s  imprudence  in  the 
advocacy  of  his  doctrines,  and  of  his  temerity  in  venturing  to  discuss 
the  biblical  relations  of  his  discoveries,  instead  of  leaving  the  interpre¬ 
tation  of  texts  to  the  authorized  mouthpieces  of  the  Church.  But  nothing 
that  he  did  affords  any  valid  excuse,  or  hardly  even  a  faint  palliation, 
for  the  enormous  wrong  of  the  organized,  unrelenting  endeavor  to  sup¬ 
press  the  publication  of  important  scientific  truth,  and  for  the  more  ter¬ 
rible  sin  of  driving  an  old  man  to  perjure  himself  by  abjuring  beliefs 
which  his  tempters  and  persecutors  well  knew  that  in  his  heart  he  really 
held. 

Nothing  so  disgraceful  as  the  condemnation  of  old  Galileo,  and  his 
abjuration  compelled  under  menace  of  the  torture,  can  be  laid  to  the 
charge  of  Protestants,  as  regards  the  treatment  accorded  to  the  devotees 
of  natural  science.  But  Protestantism  has  to  acknowledge  that  the  same 
sort  of  mistake  has  been  made,  with  circumstances  less  tragic  and  sig¬ 
nal,  by  professed  advocates  of  a  larger  liberty  of  thought.  From  the 
first  rise  of  geology,  down  to  a  recent  day,  the  students  of  this  branch 
of  science  have  had  to  fight  their  way  against  an  opposition  conducted 
in  the  name  of  religion  and  of  the  Bible.  They  were  charged  with  a 
presumptuous  attempt  to  contravene  the  plain  teaching  of  revelation. 
Cowper,  in  satirizing  the  dreams  and  delusions  which  get  hold  of  the 
minds  of  men,  does  not  omit  to  castigate  those  who 

“  Drill  and  bore 
The  solid  earth,  and  from  the  strata  there 
Extract  a  register,  by  which  we  learn 
That  He  who  made  it,  and  revealed  its  date 
To  Moses,  was  mistaken  in  its  age.” 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  amiable  poet  intends  to  pour  scorn  upon 
the  theory  that  the  globe  is  more  than  about  six  thousand  years  old, — 
a  theory  then  novel,  but  now  universally  accepted.  The  geologists 
were  flying  in  the  face  of  Moses  :  they  were  audaciously  setting  up  their 
pretended  record,  dug  out  of  the  earth,  against  the  Creator’s  own  testi¬ 
mony,  given  in  writing.  What  could  indicate  more  palpably  the  arro¬ 
gance  of  reason  ?  How  many  pulpits  thundered  forth  their  denunciation 


APPENDIX 


437 


of  the  impious  fiction  of  the  geologists!  The  most  recent  instance  of 
mistaken  religious  zeal  in  a  blaze  against  the  naturalists  is  furnished  by 
the  advent  of  Darwinism.  The  recollection  is  still  fresh  of  the  anathe¬ 
mas  which  the  appearance  of  Darwin’s  Origin  of  Species  and  Descent 
of  Man  provoked. 

The  causes  of  the  attitude  of  intolerance  which  has  frequently  been 
taken  by  religious  men  toward  new  opinions  in  natural  science  are  mul¬ 
tiple.  There  is,  first,  the  customary  impatience  of  new  truth,  or  of  new 
doctrine  which  stands  in  opposition  to  cherished  ideas,  —  ideas  that  have 
long  had  a  quiet  lodgement  in  the  mind.  This  species  of  conservatism 
is  far  from  being  peculiar  to  theologians  or  to  the  religious  class  :  it  be¬ 
longs  to  other  classes  of  human  beings  as  well,  and  is  manifested  equally 
in  connection  with  other  beliefs.  The  path  which  scientific  discoverers 
have  to  tread,  apart  from  the  religious  and  ecclesiastical  jealousies  which 
they  are  liable  to  awaken,  is  not  apt  to  be  a  smooth  one.  Every  impor¬ 
tant  revolution  in  scientific  opinion  has  succeeded,  not  without  a  conflict 
with  the  adherents  of  the  traditional  view,  —  an  internecine  war  among 
the  cultivators  of  science  themselves. 

Then,  secondly,  religious  faith,  as  it  exists  in  almost  every  mind,  is 
habitually  associated  with  beliefs  erroneously  supposed  to  be  implicated 
in  it.  Religious  beliefs,  in  the  average  mind,  are  so  interwoven  with 
one  another,  as  the  mere  effect  of  association,  where  there  may  be  no 
necessary  bond  of  union,  that  where  one  of  them  is  assailed,  the  whole 
are  thought  to  be  in  danger.  Time  was,  when  a  belief  in  witchcraft 
was  held  by  many  to  be  an  articulus  stantis  aut  cadentis  ecclesice.  Even 
John  Wesley  expresses  this  opinion,  or  something  equivalent.  It  was  a 
belief  that  had  existed  so  long,  it  had  been  adopted  and  practised  on  by 
so  many  of  the  good  and  bad,  it  was  judged  to  be  so  recognized  in  the 
Scriptures,  it  entered  so  intimately  into  the  accepted  mode  of  conceiving 
of  supernatural  agents,  that  the  loss  of  it  out  of  the  faith  of  a  Christian 
was  felt  to  be  like  a  displacement  of  a  stone  from  the  arch  :  it  would  lead 
to  the  downfall  of  the  whole  structure.  The  old  Greeks  held  that  the 
stars  were  severally  the  abode  of  deific  beings  :  they  were  animated  and 
moved  by  intelligences.  Plato  and  Aristotle  were  not  delivered  from  this 
way  of  thinking.  When  a  man  like  Anaxagoras  said  that  the  sun  was 
a  stone,  the  entire  theological  edifice  was  felt  to  be  menaced  with  over¬ 
throw.  Men  did  not  at  once  discern  that  atheism  did  not  follow.  The 
disposition  “  to  multiply  essentials  ”  good  Richard  Baxter  considered 
the  bane  of  the  Church,  the  prolific  source  of  intolerance  and  division. 
The  tendency  to  identify  accident  with  substance,  the  failure  to  discern 
the  core  of  a  truth  from  its  integuments,  is  at  the  root  of  much  of  the 
rash  and  unreasoning  and  vehement  resistance  that  has  been  offered  in 
past  times  to  the  advances  of  natural  science. 

After  these  preliminary  remarks  on  the  causes  of  complaint  which 
students  of  nature  have  had  in  times  distant  and  recent,  we  proceed  to 


438 


APPENDIX 


affirm  that  the  general  allegation  against  religion  and  Christianity,  of 
having  proved  a  hindrance  to  the  advancement  of  scientific  knowledge, 
is  without  a  just  foundation.  In  the  patristic  age,  in  the  history  of 
ancient  Christianity,  writers  can  find  little  that  can  help  them  to  bolster 
up  their  fictitious  charge.  To  understand  the  middle  ages,  one  must 
take  into  view  the  domination  of  Aristotle,  which,  partly  for  good  and 
partly  for  evil,  established  itself  in  the  thirteenth  century  in  the  educated 
class.  At  first  Aristotle  was  resisted,  especially  when  the  Arabic  Panthe¬ 
ism  linked  itself  to  his  teaching ;  but  finally  he  came  to  be  considered 
as  a  chosen  man  who  had  exhausted  the  possibilities  of  natural  reason. 
Considering  what  the  character  of  civilization  was  in  that  era,  the  influ¬ 
ence  of  the  Stagirite  was  natural,  and  not  without  a  great  intellectual 
benefit.  With  the  Reformation,  his  sceptre  was  broken.  The  way  was 
opened  by  this  emancipation  for  the  progress  of  physical  and  natural 
science.  The  epochs  in  this  great  emancipation  are  marked  by  the 
advent  of  the  voyagers  Columbus  and  Da  Gama,  by  the  discoveries  of 
Copernicus  and  Vesalius,  by  the  revolution  effected  by  Newton,  by  the 
extension  of  astronomical  science  through  the  elder  Herschel,  and  by 
the  final  triumph  of  the  method  of  experimental  and  inductive  research 
which  owed  much  to  the  influence  of  Bacon,  but  the  glory  of  which 
must  be  shared  by  a  multitude  of  explorers.  To  figure  this  progress  of 
culture,  through  Aristotle’s  reign  and  since  his  downfall,  as  a  u  conflict 
with  religion,”  is  a  proceeding  as  shallow  as  it  is  calumnious.1 

The  indebtedness  of  science  to  the  Arabs  is  often  overstated.  Nesto- 
rians  were  the  tutors  and  guides  of  the  Arabs.  Alfarabi  and  Avicenna 
were  pupils  of  Syrian  and  Christian  physicians.  In  the  ninth  century, 
Hassein  Ibn  Ishak  was  at  the  head  of  a  school  of  interpreters  at  Bag¬ 
dad,  by  whom  the  Arabs  were  furnished  with  the  treatises  of  the  Stagi¬ 
rite  and  of  his  ancient  commentators.2  Thirdly,  the  additions  which 
the  Arabs  made  to  the  stock  of  learning  were  comparatively  small.  We 
say  “comparatively.”  In  comparison  with  what  they  learned  from  the 
Greeks,  their  contributions  were  small ;  but,  especially  in  comparison 
with  the  scientific  achievements  of  Christian  students  of  later  days,  the 
discoveries  of  the  Mohammedans  were  insignificant.  Whewell,  in  his 
History  of  the  Inductive  Sciences ,  has  brought  out  very  distinctly  the 
fact  that  it  was  not  until  scientific  discovery  and  experiment  were  taken 
up  under  Christian  auspices  and  by  Christian  explorers,  that  the  aston¬ 
ishing  advances  were  made  which  give  character  to  modern  science.  In 
astronomy,  the  favorite  study  of  the  Arabs,  and  one  in  which  they  really 
did  much,  what  is  all  their  original  teaching  when  set  by  the  side  of  the 
work  done  by  Copernicus,  Galileo,  Tycho  Brahe,  Kepler,  and  Newton? 

1  Zockler’s  work,  Gesch.  d.  Beziehungen  d.  Theol.  u.  Naturwissenschaft 
(1877),  contains  interesting  matter  on  the  points  here  considered. 

2  See  Ueberweg’s  Hist,  of  Philosophy ,  i.  pp.  410  seq. 


APPENDIX 


439 


The  methods,  the  instruments,  the  observation,  the  brilliant  inductions, 
which  have  revolutionized  our  conceptions  of  the  sidereal  universe,  are 
not  due  to  the  Arabs.  They  are  owing  to  the  genius  of  the  Christian 
masters  whose  names  have  just  been  given,  and  to  others  who  have  trod 
in  their  path.  It  is  in  the  atmosphere  of  Christianity,  amid  the  influ¬ 
ences  which  Christian  civilization  has  originated,  in  the  bosom  of 
Christian  society,  that  the  amazing  progress  of  natural  and  physical 
science  in  all  of  its  departments  has  taken  place.  To  hold  the  Church 
at  all  times,  much  more  Christianity  itself,  responsible  for  every  deed  of 
cruelty  and  fanaticism  which  the  rulers  of  the  Church  committed,  is  a 
manifest  injustice. 

A  fallacy  still  more  flagrant,  of  which  the  class  of  writers  whom  we 
have  in  mind  are  guilty,  is  deserving  of  special  attention.  These 
writers  unconsciously  overlook  the  fact  that,  for  the  most  part,  the 
pioneers  of  scientific  discovery  who  have  had  to  endure  persecution 
for  broaching  novel  views  upon  the  constitution  and  origin  of  nature 
have  been  themselves  Christians.  It  has  not  been  a  war  of  dis¬ 
believers  and  sceptics,  on  the  one  side,  who  have  been  obliged  to 
suffer  at  the  hands  of  believers  in  Christianity  for  teaching  scientific 
truth.  It  has  commonly  been  a  contest  of  Christian  against  Christian. 
Where  there  has  been  a  combat  of  this  sort,  it  has  been  an  intestine 
struggle.  Where  the  war  has  existed,  it  has  been  a  war  of  Greek 
against  Greek.  Christian  men,  taught  in  Christian  schools,  or  stimu¬ 
lated  intellectually  by  the  aggregate  of  influences  which  Christianity 
has  in  the  process  of  time,  to  a  great  degree,  called  into  being,  make 
some  new  discovery  in  science,  which  clashes  with  previous  opinions, 
and  strikes  many  as  involving  the  rejection  of  some  article  of  Christian 
belief.  Debate  ensues.  Intemperate  defenders  of  the  received  opinion 
denounce  those  who  would  overthrow  it.  Intolerant  men,  if  they  have 
the  power,  instigated  by  passion,  and  probably  thinking  that  they  are 
doing  God  service,  resort  to  force  for  the  purpose  of  suppressing  the 
obnoxious  doctrine,  and  crushing  its  advocates.  These  advocates, 
denying  that  Christianity  is  impugned  by  their  new  scientific  creed, 
stand,  with  more  or  less  constancy,  for  the  defence  of  it. 

If  all  that  has  been  said  of  the  opposition  offered  in  past  times 
to  scientific  progress  by  Christian  people  were  true,  no  conclusion 
adverse  to  the  truth  of  Christianity  could  be  inferred.  To  justify  such 
a  conclusion,  it  would  be  necessary  to  prove  that  the  Christian  faith, 
the  doctrine  of  Christ  and  of  his  redemption,  carries  in  it  by  natural  or 
necessary  consequence  this  antipathy.  It  might  be  that  the  professed 
adherents  of  a  religious  system  fail,  in  numerous  instances,  to  apprehend 
in  certain  particulars  its  true  genius.  They  may  identify  their  own 
preconceptions  with  its  actual  teaching.  They  may  misinterpret  that 
teaching  in  some  important  aspects  of  it.  They  may  carry  their  own 
ideas  into  the  sacred  books,  instead  of  receiving  their  ideas  from  them. 


440 


APPENDIX 


They  may  fail  to  apprehend  clearly  the  design  and  scope  of  their 
sacred  writings,  the  character  and  limits  of  their  authority.  They  may 
cling  to  the  letter,  and  let  the  spirit,  in  a  measure,  escape  them.  They 
may  fail  to  separate  between  the  essential  and  the  accidental  in  their 
contents,  the  truth  and  the  vehicle  which  embodies  it.  Unless  it  can 
be  shown,  then,  that  Christianity  involves  a  view  of  the  material  world 
and  of  its  origin,  of  the  laws  of  nature  and  its  final  cause,  and  of  man, 
which  is  at  variance  with  the  results  of  natural  investigation,  nothing 
which  the  adherents  of  Christianity  have  said  or  done  in  this  matter  is 
of  vital  moment.  That  Christianity,  fairly  understood  and  defined, 
involves  no  such  contradiction  to  scientific  belief  is  capable  of  being 
proved. 

A  sense  of  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  nature  pervades  the  Bible. 
The  keen  relish  of  the  Hebrew  writers  for  the  grand  and  the  lovely 
aspects  of  nature  is  specially  manifest  in  the  Psalms  and  prophets. 
The  starry  sky,  forest,  and  mountain,  and  sea,  filled  the  Israelite’s  heart 
with  mingled  awe  and  rejoicing.  Nor  was  he  insensible  to  the  in¬ 
fluence  of  gentler  sights  and  sounds,  —  to  the  bleating  of  the  flocks 
on  the  hillside,  the  songs  of  birds,  the  flowers  and  fruits  with  their 
varied  colors.  That  sort  of  asceticism  which  turns  away  from  nature  as 
something,  if  not  hostile  to  the  spirit,  yet  beneath  man’s  notice,  is  in 
absolute  contrast  with  the  tone  of  the  Scriptures.  The  religion  of  the 
Hebrews,  not  less  than  the  religion  of  the  New  Testament,  looking 
on  the  visible  world  as  the  work  of  God  and  a  theatre  of  his  incessant 
activity,  allowed  no  such  antipathy.  It  left  no  room  for  a  cynical 
contempt  or  disregard  of  external  beauty.  The  glowing  descriptions 
of  poets  and  seers,  reflecting  the  spontaneous  impressions  made  by 
nature  on  souls  alive  to  its  grandeur  and  its  charm,  naturally  inspired 
an  appreciation  of  that  kind  of  knowledge  which  was  ascribed  to  the 
king  who  “  spake  of  trees,  from  the  cedar  tree  that  is  in  Lebanon  even 
unto  the  hyssop  that  springeth  out  of  the  wall :  he  spake  also  of  beasts, 
and  of  fowl,  and  of  creeping  things,  and  of  fishes  ”  (i  Kings  iv.  33). 

The  unity  of  nature  is  presupposed  in  the  Scriptures.  It  is  the 
correlate  of  the  strict  monotheism  of  the  Bible.  There  is  no  divided 
realm,  as  there  is  no  dual  or  plural  sovereignty.  Humboldt  refers  to  the 
hundred-and-fourth  Psalm  as  presenting  the  image  of  the  whole  cosmos  : 
“  Who  coverest  thyself  with  light  as  with  a  garment :  who  stretchiest 
out  the  heavens  like  a  curtain  :  who  layeth  the  beams  of  his  chambers 
in  the  waters:  who  maketh  the  clouds  his  chariot,”  etc.  “We  are 
astonished,”  writes  Humboldt,  “  to  find  in  a  lyrical  poem  of  such  a 
limited  compass  the  whole  universe  —  the  heavens  and  the  earth  — 
sketched  with  a  few  bold  touches.  The  calm  and  toilsome  labor  of 
man,  from  the  rising  of  the  sun  to  the  setting  of  the  same,  when  his 
daily  work  is  done,  is  here  contrasted  with  the  moving  life  of  the 
elements  of  nature.  This  contrast  and  generalization  in  the  concep- 


APPENDIX 


441 


tion  of  the  mutual  action  of  natural  phenomena,  and  this  retrospection 
of  an  omnipresent,  invisible  power,  which  can  renew  the  earth,  or 
crumble  it  to  dust,  constitute  a  solemn  and  exalted,  rather  than  a 
glowing  and  gentle,  form  of  poetic  creation.”  It  “  is  a  rich  and  ani¬ 
mated  conception  of  the  life  of  nature.”  1  This  one  thought  of  the 
unity  of  nature  is  not  an  induction,  but  an  intuitive  perception  involved 
in  the  revealed  idea  of  God,  and  gives  to  science  by  anticipation  one 
of  its  imperative  demands. 

Not  only  does  the  Bible  proclaim  the  unity  of  nature ;  it  views 
nature  as  a  system. 

In  the  first  place,  the  operation  of  “  natural  causes  ”  is  recognized.  In 
the  story  of  the  creation,  every  sort  of  plant  and  tree  was  made  to  yield 
“  fruit  after  its  kind,  whose  seed  is  in  itself ;  ”  and  every  class  of  animals, 
to  produce  offspring  “after  its  kind.”  One  has  only  to  look  at  Job 
and  the  Psalms  to  convince  himself  that  the  reality  of  nature  and  of 
natural  agents  is  a  familiar  thought  to  the  sacred  writers.  It  is  true 
that  these  writers  are  religious  :  they  do  not  limit  their  attention  to  the 
proximate  antecedent :  they  go  back  habitually  to  the  First  Cause. 
If  they  do  not  speculate  about  “  second  causes,”  they  recognize  the  order 
of  nature.  They  may  often  leap  over  intermediate  subordinate  forces, 
and  attribute  phenomena  directly  to  the  personal  source  of  all  energy. 
This  involves  no  denial  of  secondary,  instrumental  means,  but  only  of  an 
atheistic  or  pantheistic  mode  of  regarding  them.  If  we  say  that  Erwin 
von  Steinbach  built  the  spire  of  the  Strasburg  Cathedral,  we  do  not 
mean  that  stones  and  derricks  were  not  employed  in  the  construction 
of  it.  We  simply  trace  it  immediately  to  him  whose  plan  and  directive 
energy  originated  the  structure.  When  the  Bible  says  that  “  by  the 
word  of  the  Lord  were  the  heavens  made,”  there  is  involved  no  denial 
of  the  nebular  theory.  Hardly  any  assertion  relative  to  the  subject  is 
more  frequent  than  that  the  Scriptures  recognize  no  natural  agencies. 
It  is  unfounded.  It  springs  from  a  dull  method  of  interpreting  religious 
phraseology,  and  from  a  neglect  of  multiplied  passages  which  teach  the 
contrary. 

Not  only  are  natural  causes  recognized :  nature  is  governed  by  law. 
Its  powers  are  under  systematic  regulation.  To  the  Hebrew  poet,  says 
Humboldt,  nature  “is  a  work  of  creation  and  order,  the  living  expres¬ 
sion  of  the  omnipresence  of  the  Divinity  in  the  visible  world.”  1  There 
are  no  dark  realms  given  up  to  unreason  and  disorder.  Everywhere 
the  power  and  wisdom  of  the  Most  High  have  stamped  themselves  on 
the  creation.  The  same  writer  from  whom  we  have  just  quoted 
remarks  of  the  closing  chapters  of  the  Book  of  Job:  “The  meteoro¬ 
logical  processes  which  take  place  in  the  atmosphere,  the  formation 
and  solution  of  vapor,  according  to  the  changing  direction  of  the  wind, 


1  Cosmos,  vol.  ii.  p.  412  (Bohn’s  ed.). 


442 


APPENDIX 


the  play  of  its  colors,  the  generation  of  hail  and  of  the  rolling  thunder, 
are  described  with  individualizing  accuracy :  and  many  questions  are 
propounded  which  we,  in  the  present  state  of  our  physical  knowledge, 
may  indeed  be  able  to  express  under  more  scientific  definitions,  but 
scarcely  to  answer  satisfactorily.”1  In  these  chapters  of  Job  the 
mysteries  of  nature  are  set  forth  in  connection  with  the  reign  of  law 
and  the  impressive  demonstration  afforded  by  it  of  the  inexhaustible 
wisdom  and  might  of  the  Creator  and  Sustainer  of  all  things.  The 
waters  in  their  ebb  and  flow,  the  clouds  in  their  gathering  and  their 
journeys,  the  stars  and  constellations  in  their  regular  motion,  the  course 
of  the  seasons,  the  races  of  animals,  with  the  means  given  them  for 
safety  and  subsistence,  in  a  word,  every  department  of  the  physical 
universe,  is  brought  into  this  picture  of  the  ordered  empire  of  Jehovah. 
Looking  at  the  Scriptures  as  a  whole,  we  may  say  that,  so  far  from 
contradicting  science  in  their  views  of  nature,  they  anticipate  the  fun¬ 
damental  assumptions  of  science  which  induction  helps  to  verify,  and 
that  nothing  in  the  literature  of  the  remote  past  is  so  accordant  with 
that  sense  of  the  unity,  order,  not  to  speak  of  the  glory,  of  nature, 
which  science  fosters,  as  are  the  Sacred  Writings. 

It  was  to  be  expected  that  a  revelation  having  for  its  end  the  moral 
deliverance  of  mankind  would  abstain  from  authoritative  teaching 
on  matters  relating  to  natural  science,  except  so  far  as  they  are 
inseparable  from  moral  and  religious  truth.  Theism,  as  contrasted 
with  atheism,  dualism,  pantheism,  and  polytheism,  is  a  fundamental 
postulate  of  revelation  and  redemption.  That  the  only  living  God  has 
created,  upholds,  and  dwells  in  the  world  of  nature,  that  the  world  in 
its  order  and  design  testifies  to  him,  that  his  providence  rules  all,  are 
truths  which  enter  into  the  warp  and  woof  of  the  revealed  system. 
So  man’s  place  in  creation,  his  nature,  sin  as  related  to  his  physical 
and  moral  constitution,  the  effect  of  death,  are  themes  falling  within 
the  scope  of  revealed  religion.  In  general  we  find  that  the  Bible  con¬ 
fines  itself  to  this  circle  of  truths.  The  ideas  of  nature,  apart  from  its 
direct  religious  bearings,  are  such  as  contemporary  knowledge  had 
attained.  The  geography,  the  astronomy,  the  meteorology,  the  geology, 
of  the  scriptural  authors  are  on  the  plane  of  their  times.  Copernicus 
and  Columbus,  Aristotle  and  Newton,  are  not  anticipated.  The  Bible 
renders  unto  science  the  things  of  science.  The  principal  apparent 
exception  to  this  procedure  is  in  the  somewhat  detailed  narrative  of 
creation  in  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis. 

Respecting  this  passage,  it  deserves  to  be  remarked  that  elsewhere 
in  the  Old  Testament  no  stress  is  laid  upon  the  details  as  there  found. 
The  allusions  to  the  origin  of  things  in  Job,  the  Psalms,  and  Proverbs 
do  not  exhibit  the  succession  of  organic  beings  in  just  the  same  order. 


1  Cosmos ,  vol.  ii.  p.  414. 


APPENDIX 


443 


Even  in  the  hundred-and-fourth  Psalm,  where  the  same  order  in  the 
works  of  creation  appears, — the  writer  having  in  mind  the  Genesis 
narrative,  —  no  weight  is  attached  to  the  number  of  days.1 

If  we  glance  at  the  history  of  the  interpretation  of  this  passage,  we 
shall  find  that  the  meaning  given  to  it  in  different  periods  is  generally 
matched  to  the  science  of  the  day.  From  Philo  and  Origen  the  alle¬ 
gorical  treatment  spread  in  the  ancient  Church,  and  prevailed  in  the 
middle  ages.  Augustine  considered  that  the  works  of  creation  were 
in  reality  simultaneous,  or  that  creation  is  timeless.  His  view  was  that 
time  begins  with  creation. 

Since  the  rise  of  modern  astronomy  and  geology,  new  difficulties  have 
arisen.  The  physical  system,  as  conceived  by  the  Genesis  writer,  is 
said  to  be  geocentric.  The  origination  of  the  luminaries  above,  of  the 
earth  and  of  the  organized  beings  upon  it,  seems  to  be  placed  at  an 
epoch  only  a  few  thousand  years  distant,  and  to  be  represented  as  taking 
place  in  a  few  days.  On  the  contrary,  geology,  to  say  nothing  here  of 
ethnological  and  archaeological  science,  shows  that  the  system  of  things 
has  come  into  being  gradually,  that  creation  stretches  over  vast  periods 
in  the  past.  Enough  has  been  said  already  to  indicate  how  groundless 
are  the  objections  which  spring  merely  from  inattention  to  the  religious 
point  of  view  of  the  biblical  writers.  The  First  Cause  is  brought  into 
the  foreground  :  proximate  antecedents  are  passed  over.  The  features 
of  the  Genesis  narrative  which  appear  to  clash  with  science  are  chiefly 
the  order  of  succession  in  creation,  and  the  chronological  statements. 

Various  hypotheses  for  the  reconcilement  of  Genesis  and  science 
may  be  left  unnoticed,  for  the  reason  that  they  are  either  given  up,  or 
deal  too  largely  in  fancy  to  merit  serious  consideration.  There  is  one 
theory,  however,  which  still  has  its  advocates,  and  is  entitled  to  a 
hearing.  It  is  that  which  looks  on  the  Genesis  narrative  as  an  epitome 
of  the  history  of  creation,  “  days  11  being  the  symbolical  equivalent,  or 
representative,  of  the  long  eras  which  science  discloses ;  there  being, 
however,  a  correspondence  in  the  order  of  sequence,  —  a  correspondence 
of  a  very  striking  character,  and  giving  evidence  of  inspiration.  It  is 
not  supposed  that  the  facts  of  science  were  opened  to  the  view  of  the 
writer  of  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis  ;  but  he  saw,  possibly  in  a  vision, 
or  through  some  other  method  of  supernatural  teaching,  the  course  of 
things  in  their  due  order.  The  length  of  time  really  consumed  in  the 
process,  he,  perhaps,  may  have  been  as  ignorant  of  as  were  his  readers. 
Plausible  as  this  theory  may  appear  to  some,  and  supported  though  it 
has  been  by  distinguished  names  in  science,  as  well  as  in  theology,  it 
has  to  encounter  grave  difficulties.  Equally  learned  naturalists  in  large 
numbers  regard  the  alleged  correspondence  in  the  order  of  events  as 

1  See  Dillmann,  Die  Genesis ,  p.  12  ;  cf.  Isa.  xxvi.  7-10,  xxxviii.  4  seq. ; 
Prov.  viii.  24  seq. ;  Ps.  xxiv.  2. 


444 


APPENDIX 


unreal,  or  as  effected  by  a  forced  interpretation  of  the  narrative.  With 
these  naturalists  many  judicious  critics  and  exegetes  are  agreed.  The 
matching  of  the  narrative  to  the  geological  history  is  thought  to  require 
a  more  flexible  and  arbitrary  understanding  of  words  and  phrases  in  the 
former  than  a  sound  method  of  hermeneutics  will  sanction.1  Another 
circumstance  which  tends  to  give  a  precarious  character  to  the  hypothe¬ 
sis  in  question  is  the  documentary  composition  of  Genesis.  It  is  gener¬ 
ally  agreed  that  there  are  two  distinct  accounts  of  the  creation,  from 
somewhat  different  points  of  view,  placed  in  juxtaposition.  The  hand 
of  the  compiler  is  plainly  seen.  The  new  light  upon  Oriental  history 
and  religions  which  has  been  obtained  raises  additional  doubt  as  to  the 
tenableness  of  the  hypothesis  of  which  we  are  speaking.  A  mistake 
has  often  been  made,  especially  by  naturalists,  in  assuming  that  the  first 
chapter  of  Genesis  stands  by  itself,  instead  of  being  one  of  a  series  of 
narratives  which  extend  over  the  earlier  portion  of  the  book,  and  must 
be  examined  and  judged  as  a  whole.  It  is  ascertained  that  narratives 
bearing  strong  marks  of  likeness  to  these  were  current  among  the  other 
Semitic  peoples  with  whom  the  Israelites  were  related,  —  among  the 
Phoenicians,  and  among  the  Babylonians  and  Assyrians.  How  far 
back  can  the  purer  or  the  Genesis  form  of  these  narratives  be  traced? 
Are  they  to  be  considered  the  original,  most  ancient  form  of  traditionary 
belief,  of  which  the  other  Semitic  legends  are  a  corruption?  One  thing 
is  evident,  that  the  expurgation  and  ennobling  of  these  hoary  traditions 
must  luve  been  the  work  of  minds  illuminated  by  divine  revelation. 
The  divine  or  inspired  element  in  the  Genesis  narrative  of  the  creation 
would  thus  be  made  to  consist  in  the  exclusion  of  elements  at  war  with 
the  religion  of  Israel,  and  in  the  casting  of  the  ancient  story  into  a 
shape  in  which  it  should  become  a  vehicle  of  communicating,  not  scien¬ 
tific  truth,  but  the  great  religious  ideas  which  form  the  kernel  of  the 
Mosaic  revelation.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  this  would  be  an  impor¬ 
tant  step  taken  in  the  deliverance  of  the  Israelites  from  polytheistic 
superstition.  This  was  enough  to  effect  on  that  stage  of  revelation.  To 
substitute  a  scientific  cosmogony  for  the  inherited  beliefs  of  the  early 
Israelites  would  require  magic  rather  than  miracle.  It  would  be  either 
a  supernatural  teaching  of  what  it  belongs  to  the  inquisitive  mind  of 
man  and  the  progress  of  science  to  discover,  or  it  would  be  a  kind  of 
inspired  riddle,  the  meaning  of  which  could  not  be  in  the  least  divined 
—  in  this  respect  differing  from  prophecy  —  until  science  had  rendered 
the  ascertainment  of  its  meaning  superfluous. 

No  theory  of  evolution  clashes  with  the  fundamental  ideas  of  the 
Bible  as  long  as  it  is  not  denied  that  there  is  a  human  species,  and  that 
man  is  distinguished  from  the  lower  animals  by  attributes  which  we 
know  that  he  possesses.  Whether  the  first  of  human  kind  were  created 


1  See  Dillmann,  p.  1 1. 


APPENDIX 


445 


outright,  or,  as  the  second  narrative  in  Genesis  represents  it,  were 
formed  out  of  inorganic  material,  out  of  the  dust  of  the  ground,  or  were 
generated  by  inferior  organized  beings,  through  a  metamorphosis  of 
germs,  or  some  other  process,  —  these  questions,  as  they  are  indifferent 
to  theism,  so  they  are  indifferent  as  regards  the  substance  of  biblical 
teaching.  It  is  only  when,  in  the  name  of  science,  the  attempt  is  made 
to  smuggle  in  a  materialistic  philosophy,  that  the  essential  ideas  of  the 
Bible  are  contradicted. 

As  regards  the  idea  of  creation,  or  the  origin  of  things  by  the  act  of 
God’s  will,  it  is  a  point  on  which  science  is  incompetent  to  pronounce. 
It  belongs  in  the  realm  of  philosophy  and  theology.  Natural  science 
can  describe  the  forms  of  being  that  exist,  can  trace  them  back  to  ante¬ 
cedent  forms,  can  continue  the  process  until  it  arrives  at  a  point  beyond 
which  investigation  can  go  no  farther;  then  it  must  hand  over  the 
problem  to  philosophy.  To  disprove  creation  would  require  an  insight 
into  the  nature  of  matter  and  of  finite  spirit  such  as  no  discreet  man  of 
science  would  pretend  for  a  moment  to  have  gained.  This  question, 
too,  the  question  what  constitutes  the  reality  of  things  perceived,  is  a 
problem  to  the  solution  of  which  natural  science  lends  a  certain  amount 
of  aid,  but  which  metaphysics  and  theology  have  at  last  to  determine  as  far 
as  the  human  faculties  make  it  possible.  Christianity  touches  the  domain 
of  science  in  the  Christian  doctrine  of  physical  death  as  the  penal  con¬ 
sequence  of  sin.  Do  not  all  living  things  die?  Do  not  the  animals, 
those  whose  organization  most  resembles  that  of  man,  perish  at  the  end 
of  an  allotted  term  ?  Are  not  the  seeds  of  dissolution  in  our  physical 
constitution?  Do  not  the  Scriptures  themselves  dwell  on  man’s  natural 
frailty  and  mortality?  Does  not  an  apostle  — the  same  who  asserts  that 
death  came  in  through  sin  —  speak  of  the  first  man  as  of  the  earth,  and 
mortal  ? 

The  narrative  in  Genesis  does  not  imply  that  man  was  immortal  in 
virtue  of  his  physical  constitution.  It  teaches  the  opposite.  Its  doc¬ 
trine  is  that  had  he  remained  obedient  to  God,  and  in  communion  with 
him,  an  exemption  from  mortality  would  have  been  granted  him.  Not 
only  would  he  have  been  spared  the  bodily  pains  which  sin  directly  en¬ 
tails  through  physical  law,  and  the  remorse  and  mental  anguish  which 
are  “  the  sting  of  death,”  but  he  would  have  made  the  transition  to  the 
higher  form  of  life  and  of  being  through  some  other  means  than  by  the 
forcing  apart  of  soul  and  body.  The  resurrection  of  Jesus,  and 
the  promised  resurrection  of  his  followers,  is  the  giving  of  a  renewed 
organism  —  “a  spiritual  body”  —  in  the  room  of  “  flesh  and  blood.” 
The  idea  is  that  of  a  restoration  to  man  of  a  boon  which  he  forfeited 
through  sin.  It  is  the  idea  of  a  development  into  a  higher  mode  of 
existence,  reached  by  a  process  less  violent  and  more  natural  than  the 
crisis  of  death.  The  science  which  is  adventurous  enough  to  find  Plato’s 
Dialogues  and  Shakespeare’s  plays  in  the  sunbeams  will  hardly  assume 


446 


APPENDIX 


to  deny  the  possibility  of  such  a  transmutation.  Christianity  does  not 
permit  sin,  and  the  effects  of  sin  on  human  nature,  to  be  lightly  esti¬ 
mated.  A  moral  disorder,  a  disorder  at  the  core  of  man’s  being,  brings 
consequences  more  portentous  than  are  dreamt  of  in  the  philosophy 
which  will  not  recognize  this  terrible  but  patent  fact.  It  is  true  that  the 
lower  animals  die.  But  man  is  distinguished  from  them.  He  is  more 
than  a  sample  of  the  species.  He  is  an  individual.  He  includes,  in  his 
principle  of  life,  rationality,  conscience,  affinity  to  God.  If  he  were 
nothing  but  an  animal,  then  it  might  be  irrational  to  think  of  his  escap¬ 
ing  the  fate  of  the  brute.  But,  being  thus  exalted,  there  is  no  absurdity 
in  conceiving  of  such  an  evolution  from  the  lower  to  the  higher  stage 
of  existence,  as  robs  death  of  the  dread  associated  with  it  —  an  evolution, 
however,  conditioned  on  his  perseverance  in  moral  fidelity  and  fellow¬ 
ship  with  God.  When  the  Scriptures  speak  of  human  weakness,  frailty, 
and  mortality,  it  is  to  mankind  in  their  present  condition,  with  the  con¬ 
sequences  of  sin  upon  them,  that  they  refer. 

The  Scriptures  point  forward  to  the  perfecting  of  the  kingdom  of  God, 
the  consummation  of  this  world’s  history.  The  physical  universe  is  not 
an  end  in  itself.  It  is  subservient  to  moral  and  spiritual  ends.  It  is  not 
to  remain  forever  in  its  present  state.  It  is  to  partake  in  the  redemption. 
The  material  system  is  to  be  transfigured,  ennobled,  converted  into  an 
abode  and  instrument  suited  to  the  transfigured  nature  of  the  redeemed. 
u  Without  the  loss  of  its  substantial  being,  matter  will  exchange  its 
darkness,  hardness,  weight,  inertia,  and  impenetrability  for  clearness, 
brilliancy,  elasticity,  and  transparency.”1  The  mystery  that  overhangs 
this  change  is  no  ground  for  disbelief.  As  far  as  physical  science  has 
a  right  to  speak  on  the  subject,  it  furnishes  arguments  for  the  possibil¬ 
ity  of  such  an  evolution,  and  corroborates  the  obscure  intimations  of 
Scripture.2 

The  remark  is  not  unfrequently  heard,  that,  though  there  may  be  no 
positive  dissonance  between  science  and  Scripture,  yet  the  whole  con¬ 
ception  of  the  universe  which  science  has  brought  to  us  is  unlike  that 
of  the  biblical  writers,  —  so  unlike,  that  the  biblical  doctrine  of  redemp¬ 
tion  is  made  incredible.  The  earth,  instead  of  being  the  centre  of  the 
sidereal  system,  is  only  a  minute  member  of  it.  It  is,  one  has  said,  but 
“  a  pinpoint  ”  in  the  boundless  creation.  Consequently,  man  is  reduced 
to  insignificance.  How  can  we  imagine  a  mission  of  the  Son  of  God, 
an  incarnation  of  Deity,  in  behalf  of  a  race  inhabiting  this  little  sphere? 
The  incredibility  of  the  Christian  doctrine  is  heightened,  we  are  told, 
by  the  probability,  given  by  analogy,  that  other  rational  beings  without 
number,  possibly  of  higher  grade  than  man,  exist  in  the  multitudinous 
worlds  which  astronomy  has  unveiled. 

1  Dormer,  Christ/.  Glaubenslehre,  ii.  973. 

2  See  Tait  and  Stewart,  The  Unseen  Universe. 


APPENDIX 


447 


The  whole  point  of  this  difficulty  lies  in  the  supposed  insignificance 
of  man.  He  who  entertains  such  thoughts  will  do  well  to  ponder  cer¬ 
tain  eloquent  sayings  of  Pascal.  What  is  the  physical  universe,  with 
its  worlds  upon  worlds,  compared  with  the  thought  of  it  in  man’s  mind? 
Who  is  it  that  discovers  the  planets,  weighs  them,  measures  their  paths, 
predicts  their  motions?  Shall  bulk  be  the  standard  of  worth?  Shall 
greatness  be  judged  by  the  space  that  is  filled?  One  should  remember, 
also,  the  sublime  observation  of  Kant  on  the  starry  heavens  above  us 
and  the  moral  law  within  us,  —  one  connecting  us  with  a  vast  physical 
order,  in  which,  to  be  sure,  we  occupy  a  small  place,  but  the  other  bind¬ 
ing  us  to  a  moral  order  of  infinite  moment,  giving  to  our  spiritual  being 
a  dignity  which  cannot  be  exaggerated.  As  to  possible  races  of  rational 
creatures  in  other  worlds,  who,  if  they  exist,  can  affirm  that  the  mission 
and  work  of  Christ  have  no  significance  for  them?  But,  not  to  lose 
ourselves  in  conjecture,  the  objection  is  seen,  on  other  grounds,  to  be 
without  any  good  foundation.  The  existence  of  any  number  of  rational 
creatures  elsewhere  does  not  diminish  in  the  least  the  worth  of  man  ;  it 
does  not  lessen  his  need  of  help  from  God  ;  it  does  not  weaken  the 
appeal  which  his  forlorn  condition  makes  to  the  heart  of  the  heavenly 
Father;  it  does  not  lower  the  probability  of  a  divine  interposition  for 
his  benefit.  Shall  the  Samaritan  turn  away  from  one  sufferer  at  the 
wayside,  because  myriads  of  other  men  exist,  many  of  them,  perhaps, 
in  a  worse  condition  than  he?  This  method  of  reasoning  and  of  feel¬ 
ing  is  quickly  condemned  when  it  is  met  with  in  human  relations.  It 
would  deaden  the  spirit  of  benevolence.  It  is  not  less  fallacious,  and 
not  less  misleading,  when  applied  to  the  relations  of  God  to  mankind. 

NOTE  23  (p.  343) 

It  appears  to  be  thought  by  many  at  present  that  the  argument  for 
Christian  revelation  from  prophecy  is  of  little  weight.  In  treatises  on 
Christian  evidences,  it  has  fallen  into  the  background,  or  has  disap¬ 
peared  altogether.  By  some  it  would  seem  to  be  considered  an  objec¬ 
tion,  rather  than  a  support,  to  the  Christian  cause.  This  impression 
is  due  in  part  to  wrong  methods  of  interpretation  that  were  formerly 
in  vogue. 

Prophecy,  looked  at  in  the  light  of  a  more  scientific  exegesis  and  a 
larger  conception  of  the  nature  of  prophetic  inspiration,  furnishes  a 
striking  and  powerful  argument  for  revelation. 

One  thing  which  modern  theologians  have  learned  respecting  Hebrew 
prophecy  is  that  prediction  was  not  the  exclusive,  or  even  the  principal, 
constituent  in  the  poet’s  function.  The  prophets  were  raised  up  to 
instruct,  rebuke,  warn,  and  comfort  the  Israel  of  their  own  day.  They 
dealt  with  the  exigencies  and  obligations  of  the  hour.  They  were  the 
spokesmen  of  God,  consciously  speaking  to  the  people  by  his  commis- 


448 


APPENDIX 


sion,  and  through  his  Spirit  inspiring  them.  Prediction  was  involved, 
both  as  to  the  near  and  the  distant  future.  But,  as  we  see  from  the 
case  of  the  prophets  of  the  New  Testament  church  (i  Cor.  xiv.  24,  31), 
foretelling  was  not  the  essential  thing.  The  prophet  was  an  inspired 
preacher. 

Another  change  in  the  modern  view  of  prophecy  is  in  the  perception 
of  the  limitations  to  which  the  prophets  were  subject,  as  to  the  extent 
and  the  form  of  their  vaticinations.  Allegorical  interpretation,  in  the 
form,  for  example,  which  ascribed  to  the  language  of  the  prophets  a 
double  or  multiple  sense  of  which  they  were  conscious,  or  in  the  form 
which  laid  into  their  words  a  meaning  at  variance  with  their  natural 
import,  is  now  set  aside.  There  is  a  broader  view  taken  of  the  matter. 
The  distinction  between  the  inmost  idea,  the  underlying  truth,  and  the 
form  in  which  it  is  conceived,  or  the  imagery  under  which  it  is  beheld, 
by  the  seer,  is  recognized.  The  central  conception  of  the  organic 
relation  of  the  religion  of  the  Old  Testament  to  that  of  the  New,  the 
first  being  rudimental  in  its  whole  character,  and  thus  in  its  very 
nature  predictive, — -just  as  a  developed  organism  is  foreshadowed  in 
its  lower  forms  or  stages,  —  illuminates  the  whole  subject.  It  suggests 
the  limitations  of  view  which  must  of  necessity  inhere  in  prophetical 
anticipation,  even  though  it  be  supernatural  in  its  origin. 

Prediction,  in  order  to  be  an  evidence  of  revelation,  must  be  shown 
to  be  truly  pre-diction,  —  that  is,  to  have  been  uttered  prior  to  the  event 
to  which  it  relates.  On  this  point,  as  regards  the  Old  Testament 
prophecies,  there  is  no  room  for  reasonable  doubt.1  The  predictions 
must  be  shown  not  to  spring  from  native  sagacity,  or  wise  forecast 
based  on  natural  causes  known  to  be  in  operation.  And  they  must 
be  verified  to  an  extent  not  to  be  explained  either  by  the  supposition 
of  accidental  coincidence,  or  by  supposing  the  effect  to  be  wrought  by 
the  influence  of  the  predictions  themselves. 

If  we  glance  at  the  prophets  as  they  present  themselves  to  our  view 
on  the  pages  of  the  Old  Testament,  we  shall  be  helped  to  judge 
whether  their  predictions  can  endure  the  test  of  these  criteria. 

A  man  was  not  made  a  prophet  by  virtue  of  any  natural  talents  that 
he  possessed,  or  any  acquired  knowledge.  He  might,  to  be  sure,  be  a 
great  poet ;  but  this  of  itself  did  not  make  him  a  prophet.  The  prophets, 
it  is  true,  were  not  cut  off  from  a  living  relation  to  their  times.  They 
did  not  appear  as  visitors  from  another  planet.  But  what  the  prophet 
had  learned,  whether  in  “  the  schools  of  the  prophets 11  (when  such 
existed,  and  if  he  belonged  to  them),  or  from  the  study  of  the  law,  and 
of  other  prophets  who  preceded  him,  did  not  furnish  him  with  the 

1  If  the  late  date  of  the  Book  of  Daniel  is  accepted,  its  predictions,  as  far 
as  they  relate  to  events  prior  to  the  Maccabean  age,  must  be  left  out  of  the 
account. 


APPENDIX 


449 


message  which  he  delivered.  He  was  not  like  the  rabbi  or  scribe 
of  a  later  day.  He  did  not  take  up  his  office  of  his  own  will.  So  far 
from  this,  he  is  conscious  of  being  called  of  God  by  an  inward  call 
which  he  cannot  and  dare  not  resist.  The  splendid  passage  in  which 
Isaiah  recurs  to  the  vision  in  the  temple,  when  “  the  foundations  of  the 
thresholds  shook,”  and  the  Voice  was  heard  to  say,  “Whom  shall  I 
send?”  shows  the  awe-inspiring  character  of  the  divine  call  which  set 
the  prophet  apart  for  his  work  (Isa.  vi.) .  The  true  prophet  is  conscious 
of  being  called  to  declare,  not  the  results  of  his  own  investigations  or 
reflections,  but  the  counsels  and  will  of  the  Most  High.  He  utters  the 
word  of  God.  It  may  be  a  message  that  runs  counter  to  his  own  pref¬ 
erence,  that  excites  the  deepest  grief  in  his  soul,  that  overcomes  him  with 
surprise  or  terror ;  but  he  cannot  keep  silent.  So  conscious  is  he  that 
he  is  not  speaking  out  of  his  own  heart,  as  do  the  false  prophets,  that 
at  times  he  no  longer  speaks  in  propria  persona  as  the  deputy  of  God : 
God  himself  speaks,  in  the  first  person,  by  his  lips.  Yet  as  a  rule, 
and  especially  in  the  later  and  higher  stages  of  prophecy,  the  state 
of  the  prophet  is  not  that  of  ecstasy.  He  is  in  full  possession  of 
reason  and  consciousness.  He  distinguishes  between  his  own  thoughts 
and  words  and  the  word  of  God.  There  is  no  bewilderment.  The 
truth  which  he  pours  forth  from  a  soul  exalted,  yet  not  confused,  by 
emotion  is  not  something  reasoned  out.  It  is  an  immediate  perception 
or  intuition.  He  is  a  seer :  he  hears  or  beholds  that  which  his  tongue 
declares.  The  intuition  of  the  prophet  cannot  be  resolved  into  a  natural 
power  of  divination.  What  power  of  divination  could  look  forward  to 
the  far  remote  consummation  of  the  workings  of  Providence  in  history? 
The  prophets  give  utterance  to  no  instinctive  presage  of  national 
feeling.  Commonly  their  predictions  are  in  the  teeth  of  the  cherished 
aspirations  of  the  people. 

The  prophets  predicted  events  which  human  foresight  could  not 
anticipate.  Yet  there  is  no  such  correspondence  between  prediction 
and  fulfilment,  that  history  is  written  in  detail  in  advance  of  the  actual 
occurrences.  There  is  no  such  identity  as  to  disturb  the  action  of 
human  free-will,  as  it  would  be  deranged  if  everything  that  man  were 
to  do  and  to  suffer  in  the  future  were  mapped  out  before  his  eyes. 
Moreover,  the  conditions  under  which  the  ideas  given  to  the  prophet 
necessarily  shape  themselves  in  his  thought  and  imagination  —  which 
may  be  called  the  human  side  of  prophecy  —  give  rise  to  a  greater  or 
less  disparity  between  the  mode  of  the  prediction  and  the  mode  of 
fulfilment.  This  will  constitute  an  objection  to  the  reality  of  prophecy, 
only  to  those  who  cannot  break  through  the  shell,  and  penetrate  to  the 
kernel  within  it.  On  this  topic  Ewald  writes  as  follows  :  — 

“  A  projected  picture  of  the  future  is  essentially  a  presentiment,  a  surmise; 
i.e.  an  attempt  and  effort  of  the  peering  spirit  to  form  from  the  basis  of  a 
certain  truth  a  definite  idea  of  the  form  the  future  will  take,  and  to  pierce 


450 


APPENDIX 


through  the  veil  of  the  unseen :  it  is  not  a  description  of  the  future  with 
those  strict  historical  lines  which  will  characterize  it  when  it  actually  unfolds 
itself.  The  presentiment  or  foreboding  advances  at  once  to  the  general  scope 
and  great  issue.  Before  the  prophet  who  is  justly  foreboding  evil,  there  rises 
immediately  the  vision  of  destruction  as  the  final  punishment;  but  probably 
this  does  not  come  to  pass  immediately,  or  only  partially;  and  yet  the 
essential  truth  of  the  threat  remains  as  long  as  the  sins  which  provoked 
it  continue,  whether  it  be  executed  sooner  or  later.  Or  when  the  gaze  of  the 
prophet,  eager  from  joyous  hope  or  sacred  longing,  dwells  on  the  considera¬ 
tion  of  the  so-called  Messianic  age,  this  hovers  before  him  as  coming  soon 
and  quickly;  what  he  clearly  sees  appearing  to  him  as  near  at  hand.  But  the 
development  of  events  shows  how  many  hindrances  still  stand  in  the  way  of 
the  longed-for  and  surmised  consummation,  which  again  and  again  vanishes 
from  the  face  of  the  present :  nevertheless,  the  pure  truth  that  the  consum¬ 
mation  will  come,  and  must  come  precisely  under  the  conditions  foretold  by 
the  prophet,  remains  unchangeably  the  same;  it  retains  its  force  during  every 
new  period,  and  from  time  to  time  some  part  of  the  great  hope  finds  its 
fulfilment.  Further:  the  presentiment  endeavors  to  delineate  its  subject- 
matter  with  the  greatest  clearness  and  definiteness,  and,  in  order  to  describe 
really  unseen  things,  borrows  the  comparisons  and  illustrations  that  are  at 
hand  from  the  past  and  popular  ideas.  To  set  forth  the  presentiment  of  evil, 
there  occurs  the  memory  of  Sodom,  or  all  the  terrible  things  of  nature;  whilst 
for  bright  hope  and  aspiration,  there  is  the  memory  of  Mosaic  and  Davidic 
times.  But  the  prophet  does  not  really  intend  to  say  that  only  the  things 
that  occurred  in  Sodom,  and  under  Moses  and  David,  will  recur,  or  that 
mere  earthquakes  and  tempests  will  happen;  but,  using  these  comparisons, 
he  means  something  far  higher.”  1 

The  prophet,  beholding  things  future  as  if  present,  may  leap  over 
long  intervals  of  time.  Events  may  appear  to  him  near  at  hand  which 
are  really  distant.  Thus,  in  Isaiah,  the  Messianic  era  follows  im¬ 
mediately  on  the  liberation  of  the  Israelites  from  captivity.  Round 
numbers  may  be  used,  —  numbers  having  only  a  symbolical  signifi¬ 
cance.2  Events  may  be  grouped  according  to  the  causal  rather  than 
the  temporal  relation  between  them. 

On  this  matter  of  chronology,  Ewald  has  suggestive  remarks  :  — 

“  The  prophetic  presentiment,  finally,  endeavoring  in  certain  distressing 
situations  to  peer  still  more  closely  into  the  future,  ventures  even  to  fix  terms 
and  periods  for  the  development  of  the  events  which  are  foreseen  as  certain; 
yet  all  these  more  definite  limitations  and  calculations  are  so  many  essays 
of  a  peculiar  class,  to  be  conceived  of  and  judged  by  their  own  nature  and 
from  the  motive  that  produced  them,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  every¬ 
thing  that  the  prophet  threatens  or  promises  is  conditioned  by  the  reception 
which  his  advice  and  command,  indeed,  which  his  suppressed  yet  necessary 
and  of  themselves  clear  presuppositions,  meet  with.  Accordingly,  the  pro- 

1  Ewald’s  Prophets  of  the  Old  Testament ,  vol.  i.  p.  36. 

2  Oehler,  Theologie  d.  alien  Testament,  p.  205. 


APPENDIX 


451 


phetic  picture  in  the  end  is  not  to  be  judged  by  its  garments,  but  by  the 
meaning  of  the  thoughts  and  demands  which  is  hidden  within  it;  and  it 
would  be  a  source  of  constant  misconception  to  conceive  of  and  judge  picture 
and  presentiment  otherwise  than  in  accordance  with  their  own  peculiar  life 
and  nature.  Jerusalem  was  not  destroyed  so  soon  as  Micali  (ch.  i.-iii.)  fore¬ 
boded  :  nevertheless,  inasmuch  as  the  same  causes  which  provoked  that 
presentiment  were  not  radically  removed,  the  destruction  did  not  ultimately 
fail  to  come.  Literally,  Jerusalem  was  neither  besieged  nor  delivered  exactly 
as  Isaiah  (ch.  xxix.)  foresaw:  still,  as  he  had  foreseen,  the  city  was  exposed 
during  his  lifetime  to  the  greatest  danger,  and  experienced  essentially  as 
wonderful  a  deliverance.  In  the  calculations  (Isa.  xxxii.  14  seq.,  comp.  v.  10, 
xxix.  1-8,  and  especially  v.  17),  if  the  words  are  taken  slavishly,  there  lies  a 
minor  contradiction,  which,  with  a  freer  comparison  of  all  the  pictures  as  they 
might  exist  before  the  mind  of  the  prophet,  it  is  granted,  quickly  disappears. 
The  punishment  of  Israel  (Hos.  ii.)  consists  in  expulsion  into  the  wilderness 
(ch.  iii.  seq .) ;  it  consists  rather  in  other  things,  e.g.  in  being  driven  away 
to  Assyria  and  Egypt.  Yet  all  these  presentiments  were  equally  possible,  and 
contain  no  contradiction,  unless  they  are  confounded  with  historical  assertions 
or  even  express  commands.  As  appears  from  Jer.  xxvi.  1-19,  at  this  period 
of  Jewish  history  a  correct  feeling  of  the  true  meaning  of  prophetic  utterances 
in  this  respect  was  still  in  existence,  and  they  were  not  so  misunderstood  as 
they  were  in  the  middle  ages,  and  as  they  still  are  in  many  quarters.”  1 

Closely  related  to  the  partial  indifference  to  mere  chronological 
relations  which  is  seen,  for  example,  in  what  is  termed  “  the  perspective 
of  prophecy,”  is  another  feature,  —  that  of  the  gradual  fulfilment,  the 
preliminary  and  the  completed  verification,  of  predictions.  Glowing 
ideals  stir  the  soul  of  the  prophet.  The  realization  of  them  he  may 
connect  with  personages  already  living  or  soon  to  appear,  and  with 
conditions  with  which  he  is  conversant.  In  the  ways  anticipated  by 
him  they  have  in  truth  a  verification,  but  one  that  falls  far  short  of  the 
prophetic  vision.  The  accordance  is  real,  but  only  up  to  a  certain 
point :  the  discordance  is  too  great  to  be  removed  by  treating  the 
prediction  as  an  hyperbole.  Hence  the  full  verification  is  still  looked 
for  ;  and  it  comes.  The  development  of  the  religion  of  Israel  brings  in 
the  complete  realization  of  the  grand  idea  which  floated  before  the 
prophet’s  mind.  This  is  not  a  novel  theory  of  prophecy,  peculiar  to 
our  day.  Lord  Bacon  speaks  of  “  that  latitude  which  is  agreeable  and 
familiar  unto  divine  prophecies  ;  being  of  the  nature  of  their  author, 
with  whom  a  thousand  years  are  but  as  one  day ;  and  are  therefore  not 
fulfilled  punctually  at  once,  but  have  springing  and  germinant  acconi- 
plishment  throughout  many  ages ,  though  the  height  or  fulness  of  them 
may  refer  to  some  one  age.”  2  The  mind  of  the  seer  or  psalmist  was 
illuminated,  so  that  the  plan  of  Jehovah  in  the  ordering  of  the  past 

1  Ewakl,  p.  37. 

2  The  Advancement  of  Learning,  b.  ii.  (Spedding’s  ed.,  vi.  200). 


452 


APPENDIX 


course  of  IsraePs  history,  and  the  real  import  of  the  present  conjunction 
of  circumstances,  were  unveiled  to  his  mind.  From  this  point  of  view 
he  glanced  forward,  and,  illuminated  still  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  he 
beheld  the  future  unfold  itself,  —  not,  to  be  sure,  as  to  the  eye  of  the 
Omniscient,  but  under  the  limitations  imposed  by  finite  powers  acting 
within  a  restricted  environment.  For  prophetic  inspiration  is  no 
operation  of  magic.  An  apostle  represents  the  prophets  as  seeking 
earnestly  to  get  at  the  meaning  of  their  own  prophecies,  —  “  searching 
what,  or  what  manner  of  time,  the  Spirit  of  Christ  which  was  in  them 
did  signify,”  etc.1 

The  Old  Testament  prophecies  fall  into  two  classes.  The  first  em¬ 
braces  the  predictions  of  a  Messianic  character,  especially  those  relating 
to  the  kingdom  and  the  spread  of  it.  The  second  includes  prophecies 
of  particular  occurrences. 

We  begin  with  the  first  class  of  predictions.  The  prophets  look 
forward  to  a  great  salvation  in  the  future,  a  period  of  rest  and  blessed¬ 
ness  for  the  people.2  Sometimes  this  redemption  is  depicted  as  a  great 
triumph  over  all  the  enemies  of  Israel,  when  the  state  appears  in  unex¬ 
ampled  glory  and  splendor ;  the  land  yielding  abundant  fruits,  and  all 
divine  blessings  being  showered  upon  its  inhabitants.  In  other  prophe¬ 
cies  the  predominant  feature  is  the  moral :  it  is  the  forgiveness  of  sin, 
the  prevalence  of  holiness  and  righteousness,  on  which  the  eye  is  fixed. 
Sometimes  the  great  redemption  is  foreseen  as  a  gift  to  the  seed  of 
Abraham,  the  nation  of  Israel.  But  in  other  places  the  prophets  take 
a  wider  view,  and  describe  the  heathen  nations  as  sharing  in  the  bless¬ 
ing,  and  the  kingdom  as  extending  over  the  whole  earth.  Now  the 
Redeemer  is  Jehovah  himself;  now  the  hope  centres  in  a  particular 
monarch,  or  on  a  class  by  whom  the  grand  deliverance  is  to  be  achieved  ; 
and  again  it  is  a  person  to  appear  in  the  future,  a  ruler  of  the  family  of 
David.  The  house  of  David  is  chosen  to  carry  the  kingdom  to  its  con¬ 
summation  :  it  stands  in  the  relation  of  sonship  to  God.  Then  there  is 
a  limitation  :  the  great  promise  is  to  be  realized  from  among  the  sons 
of  David.  Finally,  the  prophetic  eye  fastens  its  gaze  upon  an  individual 
in  the  dim  future;  as  in  Ps.  ii. ,  where  the  whole  earth  owns  the  sway 
of  the  king,  who  is  the  Son  of  God  ;  in  Ps.  lxxii.,  where  the  coming  and 
universal  sway  of  the  Prince  of  peace,  and  the  succor  afforded  by  him 
to  the  needy  and  distressed,  are  described;  and  in  Ps.  cx.,  in  which  the 
conqueror  of  the  earth  unites  with  the  kingly  office  that  of  an  everlast¬ 
ing  priesthood,  —  a  priesthood  not  of  the  Levitical  order.3  Elsewhere 
(Isa.  liii.)  the  great  deliverance  is  expected  through  a  suffering  “  servant 
of  Jehovah,”  who  dies  not  for  his  own  sins,  but  for  the  sins  of  the  peo¬ 
ple.  First,  the  “servant  of  Jehovah”  is  spoken  of  as  Israel  collectively 

2  Cf.  Bleek,  Einl.  in  d.  Alt.  Test.,  p.  329. 

3  Cf.  Oehler,  ii.  258. 


1  1  Pet.  i.  11. 


ArPENDIX 


453 


taken,  then  as  the  holy  and  faithful  class  among  the  people  ;  and  finally, 
in  this  remarkable  chapter,  there  is,  not  improbably,  a  farther  step  in 
individualizing  the  conception,  and  a  single  personage,  in  whom  all  the 
qualities  of  the  ideal  “  servant  ”  combine  in  a  faultless  image,  rises 
before  the  mind  of  the  seer. 

This  glimpse  of  the  most  general  outlines  of  Old  Testament  prophecy 
cannot  but  deeply  impress  one  who  has  any  just  appreciation  of  the 
religion  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  of  Christendom  even  as  it  now  is,  to  say 
nothing  of  what  may,  not  unreasonably,  be  expected  in  the  future. 
Under  these  different  phases  of  prediction,  there  is  one  grand  expecta¬ 
tion,  viz.,  that  the  religion  of  Israel  will  itself  be  perfected,  and  will  pre¬ 
vail  on  the  earth.  Follow  back  the  course  of  prophecy,  and  you  find 
traces  of  this  expectation  —  either  sublime  in  the  extreme,  or  foolhardy 
in  the  extreme,  as  the  event  should  prove  —  in  the  earliest  records  of 
Hebrew  history.  Concede  all  that,  with  any  show  of  reason,  can  be 
said  about  the  variety  in  the  ideals  and  anticipations  of  the  Hebrew 
prophets,  there  remains  enough  of  correspondence  to  them  in  the  origin, 
character,  and  progress  of  Christianity,  to  suggest  a  problem  not  easy  to 
be  solved  on  any  naturalistic  hypothesis.  Grant  that  the  prophets  had 
an  intense  conviction  of  the  reality  of  Jehovah,  of  his  power,  and  of  his 
right  to  rule.  This  conviction,  be  it  remembered,  is  itself  to  be  accounted 
for ;  but,  taking  this  for  granted,  we  find  in  it  no  adequate  means  of 
explaining  the  confident  declaration  that  u  the  earth  shall  be  filled  with 
the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  the  Lord  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea.”  1 
Why  should  they  not  have  stopped  with  the  anticipation  of  the  down¬ 
fall  and  destruction  of  the  Pagan  nations?  How  could  they  tell  that 
from  Judaea  a  universal  kingdom  should  take  its  rise?  How  could  they 
overcome  those  obstacles  to  such  an  anticipation  which  the  actual  course 
of  history,  as  it  was  going  forward  under  their  eyes,  appeared  to  involve  ? 

Let  the  reader  imagine  that,  twenty-five  or  thirty  centuries  ago,  the 
mountain  cantons  of  Switzerland  were  inhabited  by  tribes  insignificant 
in  numbers  and  strength,  while  extensive  and  powerful  empires,  like 
ancient  Rome  after  the  conquest  of  Carthage  and  the  East,  or  modern 
Russia,  are  on  their  borders.  Suppose  that  the  people  thus  imagined 
to  exist  had  a  religion  unique,  and  distinct  from  that  of  all  other  nations. 
Yet  even  in  times  when  their  little  territory  is  ravaged  by  vast  armies, 
and  the  bulk  of  its  population  dragged  off  into  slavery,  there  arise 
among  them  men  who,  with  all  the  energy  of  confidence  of  which  the 
human  mind  is  capable,  declare  that  their  religion  will  become  universal, 
that  it  will  supersede  the  gorgeous  idolatries  of  their  conquerors,  that 
from  them  will  emerge  a  kingdom  which  will  overcome,  and  purify  as  it 
conquers,  all  the  other  kingdoms  of  the  world.  And  suppose,  further, 
that  actually,  after  the  lapse  of  centuries,  from  that  diminutive,  despised 


1  Ilab.  ii.  14;  cf.  Oehler,  ii.  196. 


454 


APPENDIX 


tribe  of  shepherds  and  herdsmen  there  does  spring  a  development  of 
religion  which  spreads,  until  it  already  comprehends  all  the  nations 
that  now  profess  Christianity  ;  there  does  spring  a  Legislator  and  Guide 
of  men,  whose  spiritual  sway  is  acknowledged  by  hundreds  of  millions, 
and  to  the  progress  of  whose  reign  no  limit  can  be  set :  would  not  the 
correspondence,  or  the  degree  of  correspondence,  between  those  far-off 
predictions  and  the  subsequent  phenomena  be  a  fact  which  is  nothing 
short  of  a  miracle? 

The  second  class  of  prophecies  pertain  to  particular  occurrences.  In 
inquiring  whether  they  were  fulfilled,  we  have  to  consider  the  obscurity 
which,  notwithstanding  recent  discoveries  in  archaeology,  still  belongs 
to  the  annals  of  the  nations  contemporary  with  Israel.  We  have  to 
consider,  moreover,  that  predictions  of  this  sort  were  never  absolute, 
in  the  sense  that  God  might  not  revoke  a  sentence  in  case  repentance 
should  intervene.  The  Book  of  Jonah  is  designed  partly  to  dispel  the 
error  that  a  verdict  of  God,  because  once  announced,  is  irreversible. 
The  prophets  entreat  that  their  own  predictions  may  not  be  fulfilled, 
and  their  prayers  sometimes  avail.  Nevertheless,  the  instances  of  the 
actual  verification  of  prophecies  of  this  kind,  which  could  not  have 
sprung  from  any  mere  human  calculation  and  foresight,  are  so  numerous, 
and  of  so  marked  a  character,  that  the  reality  of  a  divine  illumination 
of  the  prophet’s  mind  cannot  rationally  be  denied.1  Such  an  instance 
is  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah  respecting  the  rapidly  approaching  downfall 
of  the  kingdoms  of  Israel  and  Syria,  which  had  cemented  an  alliance 
with  each  other,  and  of  the  failure  of  their  project  against  Judah.2 
Another  instance  in  Isaiah  is  the  failure  of  the  powerful  army  of  the 
Assyrian  king,  Sennacherib,  in  his  siege  of  Jerusalem.3  Other  examples 
are  afforded  by  the  definite  predictions  of  Jeremiah  respecting  the 
return  of  the  people  from  the  exile.  Such  prophecies  cannot  be 
referred  to  any  shrewd  forecast  on  the  part  of  the  seers  who  uttered 
them.  When,  for  example,  the  Syro-Israelitish  alliance  menaced 
Judah  and  Jerusalem,  the  peril  was  imminent,  else  it  would  not  have 
been  true  of  Ahab  and  of  his  subjects  that  “his  heart  shook,  and  the 
heart  of  his  people,  as  the  trees  of  the  forest  shake  before  the  wind.”  4 
Apart  from  the  impossibility  of  foretelling  such  events,  the  naturalistic 
explanation  presupposes  a  mental  state  in  the  authors  of  the  prophecies, 
which  is  quite  diverse  from  the  fact. 

A  class  of  critics  attribute  the  Old  Testament  predictions  exclusively 
to  natural  causes.  In  sustaining  their  thesis,  they  seek  to  show  that  the 
prophecies  have  failed  of  a  fulfilment,  to  such  an  extent  as  to  preclude 
the  supposition  that  they  were  the  product  of  revelation.  To  this  end, 
as  regards  the  general  prophecies,  they  not  only  insist  on  attaching  a 


1  See  Bleek,  Mini,  in  d.  Alt.  Test.,  p.  326. 

2  Isa.  vii. 


3  Isa.  xxxvii.  21  seq. 

4  Isa.  vii.  2. 


APPENDIX 


455 


literal  sense  to  passages  which  point  to  the  perpetual  continuance  of 
the  nation  of  Israel,  the  final  restoration  of  the  Jews,  the  subjugation 
of  their  enemies,  and  the  like  ;  but  they  refuse  to  consider  these  features 
of  prophecy,  which  the  event  has  not  literally  verified,  as  limitations  in 
the  perception  of  the  prophet,  not  inconsistent  with  his  inspiration.  In 
other  words,  they  commonly  allow  no  medium  between  a  stiff  super¬ 
naturalism,  which  ascribes  exact  verity  to  the  form  of  the  prophet’s 
vaticination,  and  a  bald  theory  of  naturalism.  This  position  is  unphilo- 
sophical.  It  overlooks  the  fact  that  the  vehicle  of  revelation  is  human, 
and  fettered,  to  a  degree,  by  natural  conditions  which  the  inspiring 
Spirit  does  not  sweep  away.  To  break  through  these  limitations 
altogether  would  be  to  substitute  a  dictation  at  once  magical  and  incom¬ 
prehensible  for  a  divine  illumination  adapted  to  the  mental  condition 
and  the  environment  of  the  recipient  of  it.  The  prophet  Jeremiah 
(ch.  xxxiii.  1 8) ,  in  a  memorable  passage,  foresees  a  momentous  change 
and  advance  in  the  religion  of  Israel.  A  “new  covenant”  is  to  be 
made  with  “the  house  of  Judah,”  —  so  radical  is  this  change  to  be! 
The  law  is  to  be  written  in  their  hearts,  that  is,  the  law  is  to  be  con¬ 
verted  into  an  inward  principle ;  and  there  is  to  be  a  forgiveness  of 
sin:  “I  will  remember  their  sin  no  more.”  These  cardinal  features 
of  the  new  dispensation,  which  Christianity,  ages  afterward,  was  to 
bring  in,  are  thus  summarily  set  forth  with  impressive  emphasis.  Yet 
the  same  Jeremiah  says  that  “a  man  shall  never  be  wanting  to  sit  on 
the  throne  of  David,  nor  Levites  to  offer  sacrifice  on  the  altar.” 1  “  The 

Jew,”  says  Dr.  Payne  Smith,  “could  only  use  such  symbols  as  he 
possessed,  and,  in  describing  the  perfectness  of  the  Christian  Church, 
was  compelled  to  represent  it  as  the  state  of  things  under  which  he 
lived,  freed  from  all  imperfections.”  2  In  the  last  chapter  of  the  Book 
of  Isaiah  3  the  prophet  describes  in  an  exulting  strain  the  glorious  days 
when  there  shall  be,  as  it  were,  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth  ;  when 
priests  and  levites  shall  be  taken  even  from  the  Gentiles ;  when  the 
old  forms  of  worship,  with  the  exception  of  the  new  moon  and  the 
sabbath,  shall  have  passed  away ;  and  when  “  all  flesh  ”  shall  worship 
before  Jehovah.  Yet  here  Jerusalem  is  conceived  of  as  supreme,  and 
the  centre  of  worship.  To  break  away  absolutely  from  this  conception, 
inconsistent  though  it  be  with  the  union  of  “  all  flesh  ”  in  the  adoration 
of  God,  would  have  been  to  ascend  to  a  point  of  view  higher  even  than 
that  which  the  apostles  had  attained  for  years  after  they  began  their 
ministry.  Yet  in  these  cases,  according  to  Dr.  Kuenen’s  method  of 
viewing  prophecy,4  for  example,  the  circumstance  that  the  prophet 
failed  to  see  the  future  in  form  and  detail  proves  that  what  he  did  see 
was  through  his  own  unaided  vision.  This  procedure  implies  an  exclu- 


1  Jer.  xxxiii.  18. 

2  Speaker's  Co7iimentary,  in  loco. 


3  Isa.  lxvi.  20-23,  cfi  lxii.  2,  lxv.  15. 

4  In  his  work  on  Prophecy. 


456 


APPENDIX 


sion  of  the  natural  factor  from  revelation  and  inspiration,  and  is  of  a 
piece  with  one-sided  conceptions  of  the  supernatural  in  the  Scriptures, 
which  modern  theology  has  set  aside,  or  which  are  clung  to  only  by 
rigid  adherents  of  an  obsolescent  system. 

With  reference  to  prophecies  of  particular  events,  —  the  second  class 
of  predictions,  —  the  class  of  critics  referred  to  are  disposed  to  bind 
the  prophets  too  closely  to  the  letter  of  their  predictions ;  for  example, 
in  what  they  say  of  times  and  seasons.  They  do  not  allow  sufficient 
weight  to  the  conditional  character  that  belongs  to  this  species  of  pre¬ 
diction  where  retributive  inflictions  are  concerned.  If  it  can  be  shown 
that,  in  certain  cases,  prophecy  failed  of  its  accomplishment,  this  would 
not  establish  their  main  proposition,  unless  it  could  be  proved  that  the 
cases  where  the  prediction  proved  true  may  be  considered  the  result  of 
accident,  or  the  product  of  natural  foresight.  A  marksman  may  hit  a 
target  often  enough  to  exclude  the  hypothesis  of  accident,  even  if  he 
miss  it  occasionally.  If  he  thus  hits  the  mark  when  he  is  known  to  be 
blind,  or  when  the  target  is  out  of  sight,  a  miraculous  guidance  of  the 
arrow  must  necessarily  be  assumed.  But  exceptions  to  the  correspond¬ 
ence  of  event  with  prediction  are  not  easily  made  out.  The  progress  of 
historical  research  has  removed  difficulties  in  regard  to  some  passages 
that  were  once  thought  to  have  remained  unverified ;  the  passage,  for 
example,  in  Isaiah,  predicting  the  conquest  of  Tyre.1 

The  relation  of  the  “  false  prophets ”  who  condemned  them  may  remind 
us  of  the  theory  of  Grote  and  others  respecting  the  relation  of  Socrates 
and  Plato  to  the  Sophists.  But  Grote’s  view  of  the  Sophists  breaks 
down  under  his  own  concessions  that  Socrates  and  Plato  were  great 
reformers  ;  working,  not,  like  other  teachers,  for  hire,  but  from  a  nobler 
impulse.  Socrates  and  Plato  differed  from  Protagoras  and  his  followers 
in  their  principles,  method,  and  spirit.  But  the  disparity  between  the 
true  and  the  false  prophets  was  more  radical.  That  among  those  who 
are  denounced  as  “  false  prophets  ”  were  individuals  not  conscious  of  an 
evil  intent,  or  actuated  by  a  fraudulent  purpose,  may  be  true.  This  is 
the  truth  that  is  contained  in  Kuenen’s  view  of  the  subject.  But  the 
statements  of  Kohler,  which  Kuenen  himself  quotes,  go  farther.  There 
was  a  set  of  u  false  prophets,”  —  “  lying  prophets,”  as  they  were  called 
by  the  prophets  of  the  canon.  Those  pretended  prophets  spoke,  not 
by  the  command  of  Jehovah,  but  out  of  their  own  hearts.  It  was  from 
no  irresistible  impulse  from  within  that  they  uttered  their  smooth  words. 
They  flattered  the  vain  hopes  of  kings  and  people.  They  cry  “  Peace! 
Peace!”  when  there  is  no  peace.  They  do  not  disturb  the  people  in 
their  indolent  self-indulgence.  Frequently  they  are  instigated  by  covet¬ 
ousness  and  greed  of  gain.  This  class  of  prophets  were  moved  by  a 
secular,  to  the  comparative  exclusion  of  a  religious,  spirit.  It  was  na- 


1  See  Cheyne’s  The  Prophecies  of  Tsaicih ,  i.  132. 


APPENDIX 


457 


tional  power  and  aggrandizement,  rather  than  truth  and  righteousness, 
which  absorbed  their  interest.  Against  this  whole  class  the  true  prophets 
carry  on  a  perpetual  warfare.  Unless  these  were  guilty  of  gross  slander 
and  intolerance,  magnifying  differences  of  judgment  into  flagrant  sins, 
Kuenen’s  view  of  the  subject  is  defective.  On  the  one  side  stood  the 
“  false  prophets  ”  and  the  people  whom  they  deceived.  But  the  true 
prophets  generally  faced  a  resisting  and  persecuting  public  opinion. 
“Who  hath  believed  our  preaching?”  is  their  sad  and  indignant  com¬ 
plaint.  The  psychological  facts  connected  with  the  utterance  of  the 
prophetic  oracles  reveal  their  nature.  Was  the  inward  call  of  the  true 
prophet  —  that  overwhelming  influence  upon  the  soul,  when  the  mighty 
hand  of  God  was  laid  upon  him  —  a  delusion?  And  how  shall  it  be 
explained  that  the  prophet  was  often  dismayed  by  the  glimpses  of  the 
future  that  burst  upon  his  vision,  that  he  strove  to  turn  away  from  the 
prospect,  that  he  was  driven  to  foretell  what  he  himself  dreaded,  and 
begged  God  to  avert?  Shall  these  extraordinary  experiences  of  the  soul, 
so  exceptional  in  their  character,  so  powerful  in  their  effect,  be  deemed 
a  morbid  excitement?  or  resolved  into  a  mere  play  of  natural  emotion? 

Dr.  Kuenen  says  truly  that  “  the  canonical  prophets  have  struggled 
forward  in  advance  of  their  nation  and  of  their  own  fellow-prophets.”1 
“Struggled  forward?”  Dr.  Kuenen  professes  to  be  a  theist.  Why 
should  he  apparently  shut  out  the  influence  of  the  Spirit  of  God?  Why 
not,  even  on  the  theory  of  an  uplifting  of  a  portion  of  a  class  above 
their  fellows,  attribute  this  phenomenon,  which  no  discerning  man  can 
fail  to  regard  as  amazing,  to  a  special  unction  from  above?  It  may  be 
allowed  that  there  were  natural  qualifications  which  led  to  the  choice  of 
a  prophet.  His  mental  and  spiritual  characteristics  fitted  him  to  be  the 
recipient  of  the  divine  influence.  But  to  exclude  or  depreciate  this 
divine  influence  appears  more  congruous  with  the  Pelagian  conceptions 
of  deism  than  with  a  theism  which  recognizes  God  as  immanent,  and 
ever  active  in  the  realm  of  the  finite.  Ewald  has  pointed  out  in  a  strik¬ 
ing  way  the  habit  of  the  prophet  to  distinguish  between  what  was  given 
him  and  what  he  produced  of  himself,  —  a  peculiarity  which  disproves 
the  naturalistic  hypothesis,  unless  one  is  prepared  to  consider  the  prophet 
a  half-insane  enthusiast.  It  is  not  to  be  thought,  observes  Ewald,  that 
because,  in  passages,  the  prophet’s  “  own  /  disappears  in  the  presence 
of  another  /,”  he  “  really  forgets  himself,  and  begins  to  speak  without 
self-consciousness,  or  ends  in  unconsciousness  and  frenzy.”  “  Neither 
has  his  introduction  of  God,  as  speaking  in  the  first  person,  sunk  into  a 
crystallized  and  idle  habit.”  “  But  the  prophet  always  starts  from  his 
own  experience  to  announce  what  he  has  already  seen  in  the  spirit,  and 
again  ends  with  his  own  experience.  Nor  in  the  course  of  his  utter¬ 
ance  does  he  ever  lose  the  consciousness  of  the  fine  boundary  lines  between 
the  divine  and  the  human.'1''  2 


1  p.  582- 


2  The  Prophets ,  etc.,  p.  41. 


453 


APPENDIX 


There  were  criteria  for  distinguishing  the  true  prophet  from  the  spuri¬ 
ous.  The  prophet  might  work  a  miracle ;  but  even  this  was  no  abso¬ 
lute  proof,  since  the  pretended  prophet  might  at  least  seem  to  do  the 
same.  Nor  was  the  correspondence  of  the  event  to  the  prediction  a 
sure  evidence  of  genuine  prophecy.1  But  in  the  genuine  prophet  there 
was  a  sympathy  in  the  depths  of  the  soul  with  Jehovah  and  his  law,  and 
with  the  purpose  of  God  in  the  course  of  history,  the  goal  of  which  he 
saw  in  the  far  future.  There  was  a  power  and  majesty  in  the  true 
prophets,  which  nothing  but  the  presence  of  God’s  spirit  could  impart 
to  them.  “  When  the  spirit  of  God  lays  hold  of  them,  and  compels 
them  to  speak,  they  demand  obedience  to  their  mere  word.  And  as,  in 
spite  of  all  murmuring,  the  congregation  of  Israel  in  the  main  followed 
Moses,  so  neither  the  bitter  hatred  of  the  idolatrous  party  in  Samaria, 
nor  the  vacillation  of  the  king,  could  cripple  the  influence  of  Elijah  and 
Elisha.2  So  Saul  at  the  head  of  his  victorious  army  dared  not  with¬ 
stand  the  word  of  Samuel.3  So  Eli  bowed  himself  to  the  divine  mes¬ 
sage  ; 4  and  David,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  glory,  endured  the  rebuke  of 
Nathan.5  Without  weapons,  without  the  prestige  derived  from  priestly 
consecration,  without  learning  and  human  wisdom,  the  prophets  demand 
obedience,  and  are  conscious  of  the  influence  which  they  can  exert  over 
the  men  of  power  in  the  nation.”  6  “  A  true  prophet  of  God,  by  his 

prayers  and  his  knowledge  of  God’s  will,  by  the  warnings  that  he  utters 
against  perils  and  false  enterprises;  is  ‘  the  chariot  of  Israel,  and  the 
horsemen  thereof ; 1  that  is,  like  a  shielding  host  of  armed  men.”  “  On 
the  other  hand,  their  persons  are  so  consecrated  to  God  that  it  can 
naturally  seem  dangerous  for  simple  mortals  to  come  into  near  contact 
with  these  men  of  God,  who  may  bring  their  guilt  to  the  remembrance.” 

Underlying  Dr.  Kuenen’s  views  of  prophecy  is  a  deistic  mode  of 
thought.  There  is  a  reluctance  to  admit  a  direct  agency  of  God  in 
connection  with  spiritual  phenomena  of  the  most  unique  and  impressive 
character.  Yet  in  his  work  he  allows  an  immediate  act  of  God  in  con¬ 
nection  with  the  separation  of  Abraham  and  the  training  of  Moses.8 
The  Deity,  in  his  system,  if  he  comes  in  at  all,  comes  in  as  a  dens  ex 
machina.  Hence  he  finds  it  difficult  to  conceive  of  grades  of  inspira¬ 
tion,  of  degrees  in  the  agency  of  the  supernatural,  of  lower  and  higher 
stages  in  prophetic  illumination.  The  supposed  difficulty  of  drawing  a 
sharp  line  between  natural  divination  and  soothsaying,  and  the  earliest 
phenomena  of  Hebrew  prophecy,  moves  him  to  conclude  that  the  latter, 
even  in  its  grandest  manifestations,  springs  wholly  from  the  unassisted 
faculties  of  man,  —  which  is  like  inferring,  from  the  fact  that  we  cannot 

1  Deut.  xiii.  I  seq.  2  Kings  xxi.  20  seq 27  sec. ;  2  Kings  iii.  13  seq. 

3  1  Sam.  xv.  21  4  1  Sam.  ii.  27  seq. 

5  2  Sam.  xii.  13  seq. ;  cf.  xxiv.  11  seq.  6  2  Kings  iv.  13. 

7  1  Kings  xvii.  18,  24;  2  Kings  iv.  9;  Luke  v.  8.  Schultz,  p.  821. 

8  Kuenen,  The  Prophets  and  Prophecy  in  Israel ,  p.  579. 


APPENDIX 


459 


fix  the  exact  point  when  a  boy  becomes  a  man,  that  no  man  exists,  or 
that  all  men  are  boys.  There  is  a  latent  postulate  of  a  great  gulf 
between  the  natural  and  the  supernatural.  It  is  true  that  prophecy, 
from  lower  beginings,  mounted  to  a  higher  level.  In  the  early  history 
of  Israel  methods  of  divination  were  taken  up  by  the  people  from  their 
Canaanite  neighbors.  Like  theism  in  general,  like  other  institutions 
and  practices  in  religion,  the  purifying  power  from  above  worked  out 
the  end  by  degrees.  Some  things,  such  as  magic  and  sorcery,  were 
always  prosecuted. 

As  a  part  of  a  deistic  mode  of  view,  the  work  of  the  prophets  is  con¬ 
fined  by  some  to  the  origination  of  “an  ethical  monotheism.”  The 
New  Testament  system  is  the  completion  of  this  work.  Redemption, 
the  hope  of  the  prophets,  the  hope  realized  in  Christ,  is  left  out  in  this 
description  of  the  religion  of  the  Bible.  To  one  who  adopts  this  inter¬ 
pretation  of  the  significance  of  the  work  of  Christ,  the  links  of  connec¬ 
tion  between  the  religion  of  the  Old  Testament  and  the  religion  of  the 
New,  which  the  apostles  perceived  to  exist,  must  appear  unreal.  Hence 
the  exposition  of  the  Old  Testament  system  by  the  New  Testament 
writers,  their  recognition  of  the  typical  character  of  the  Old  Testament 
institutions  and  rites,  and  their  explanation  of  the  prophecies,  must 
seem  to  be  a  house  built  on  the  sand.  First,  there  is  a  narrow  concep¬ 
tion  of  prophecy,  in  which  phraseology  and  form  are  put  on  a  level 
with  the  grand,  living  ideas  which  they  embody.  Next,  there  is  a 
narrow  conception  of  Christianity  as  merely  or  chiefly  a  doctrine  of 
ethical  monotheism.  Lastly,  by  way  of  corollary,  the  prophets  did  not 
prophesy,  but  are  made  by  the  apostles  to  prophesy  only  through  a 
groundless  and  fanciful  understanding  of  their  writings. 

There  are  prophecies  in  the  New  Testament  as  well  as  in  the  Old. 
The  general  predictions  relative  to  the  perpetuity,  extension,  and  trans¬ 
forming  influence  of  the  Gospel,  when  one  compares  the  circumstances 
under  which  they  were  uttered  with  the  subsequent  history  of  Christian¬ 
ity  down  to  the  present  day,  discover  a  knowledge  more  than  human. 
The  words  of  Jesus  to  the  disciple  Peter,  “On  this  rock  I  build  my 
church,  and  the  gates  of  Hades  shall  not  prevail  against  it,”  are  a 
declaration  that,  on  a  basis  of  belief  in  him  as  the  Messenger  and  Son 
of  God,  a  community  was  arising  which  no  power  could  destroy.  Con¬ 
sider  who  this  Peter  was  to  whom  Jesus  spoke,  who  Jesus  was,  as 
regards  outward  condition  and  resources,  and  the  insignificance  of  his 
following,  and  then  glance  at  the  Christian  Church,  advancing  from  its 
obscure  beginnings  to  victory  over  Judaic  and  Pagan  opposition  and 
to  its  present  commanding  place  in  human  society  !  The  prediction 
that  the  Gospel  would  be  like  leaven  in  the  world  of  mankind,  like  the 
smallest  of  seeds,  evolving  from  itself  a  lofty  and  spreading  tree  —  who, 
not  possessed  of  a  discernment  more  than  human,  could  have  then 
foreseen  that  such  an  effect  was  to  follow?  Then  there  are  particular 


460 


APPENDIX 


predictions,  of  which  the  prophecy  of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  is, 
perhaps,  the  most  remarkable.  The  sagacity  of  man  might  have 
judged  that  a  desperate  conflict  was  likely  to  break  out  between  the 
Romans  and  the  Jews,  but  who  could  have  predicted  with  any  assurance 
that  city  and  temple  would  be  reduced  to  a  ruin?  With  this  prediction, 
one  should  connect,  in  his  recollection,  the  prophecy  that  the  vineyard 
would  be  given  out  to  other  husbandmen,  that  the  treasure  of  God’s 
best  gifts  would  pass  into  the  custody  of  the  Gentiles.  The  Founder 
looked  forward  to  the  death  of  Judaism  and  the  birth  of  Christendom! 
It  is  not  to  be  overlooked  that  the  prophecies  which  are  referred  to, 
like  prophecies  in  general,  are  not  pronounced  as  results  of  calculation, 
as  probabilities  founded  on  the  examination  of  evidence  on  the  one 
side  and  on  the  other.  They  are  uttered  in  that  tone  of  absolute  con¬ 
fidence  which  belongs  to  an  assured  insight.  It  is  the  penetrating 
glance  into  the  future  of  one  to  whom  the  counsels  of  Omniscience  have 
been  supernaturally  revealed. 


INDEX 


Abbot,  Ezra,  211,  215,  220,  225,  251,  286. 
Abbott,  E.  A.,  286,  426. 

Acacius,  Bishop,  no. 

Ambrose,  430. 

Anaxagoras,  59,  435. 

Anselm,  26. 

Ansgar,  424. 

Apollonius  of  Tyana,  424. 

Appian,  415. 

Aquinas,  398. 

Aristion,  227. 

Aristotle,  59,  64,  123,  126,  127,  128,  387, 
437.  438- 

Arnold,  Matthew,  143,  268. 

Arnold,  Thomas,  424,  431. 

Augustine,  19,  93,  132,  398,  428,  429. 
Avicenna,  438. 

Bacon,  Francis,  451. 

Bain,  F.  C.,  247,  283. 

Basilides,  253. 

Baxter,  Richard,  437. 

Becket,  Thomas  A.,  426. 

Bede,  424. 

Bennett  and  Adeney,  261. 

Berkeley,  Bishop,  137. 

Bernard  of  Clairvaux,  426. 

Beyschlag,  174. 

Bleek,  174. 

Boniface,  424. 

Bowne,  B.  P.,  405. 

Bruno,  399. 

Burns,  Robert,  403. 

Bushnell,  Horace,  175. 

Butler,  Bishop,  318,  407. 

Caesar,  Julius,  140. 

Caird,  E.,  22,  387. 

Calvin,  John,  398,  419. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  92,  279. 

Carpenter,  W.  B.,  51. 

Celsus,  226. 

Chase,  F.  H.,  219. 

Chastel,  no. 

Chillingworth,  322. 


Chrysippus,  129. 

Chrysostom,  no. 

Cicero,  33,  44,  139,  140,  415. 

Clarke,  Samuel,  26,  27. 

Cleanthes,  135. 

Clement  of  Alexandria,  209,  215,  222, 
223,  225,  250,  260. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  21,  174,  393. 

Collins,  9. 

Comte,  68. 

Confucius,  119. 

Constantine,  112,  431. 

Cooke,  J.  P.,  37. 

Cowper,  436. 

Cudworth,  R.,  34. 

Darwin,  C.  R.,  37,  49,  50,  52,  53,  147,  396, 
437- 

Da  vulson,  A.  B.,  329. 

Democritus,  129. 

Descartes,  2. 

Dillman,  443,  444. 

Dion  Cassius,  415. 

Dorner,  I.  A.,  446. 

Drummond,  47. 

Dwight,  Timothy,  275,  412. 

Eckermann,  91. 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  93,  210. 

Ephraem  Syrus,  222. 

Epictetus,  131,  132,  135. 

Epicurus,  129. 

Erskine,  H.,  147. 

Erskine  of  Linlathen,  56. 

Euemerus,  199,  393. 

Eusebius,  218,  428. 

Ewald,  270,  449,  450. 

Fairbairn,  A.  S.,398. 

Fiske,  John,  17,  18,  76,  399. 

Flint,  R.,  27,  68. 

Forrest,  301. 

Fouillee,  M.,  401. 

Francis  of  Assisi,  432. 

Fraser,  A.  C.,  22,  167,  399. 

Froude,  J.  A.,  209.  ' 


462 


INDEX 


Galileo,  436. 

Gibbon,  E.,  119,  207. 

Goethe,  91. 

Gray,  Asa,  50,  54. 

Gregory  Nyssa,  424. 

Gregory  Thaumaturgus,  424. 

Grote,  G.,  279,  393,  456. 

Guizot,  106,  431. 

Gwatkin,  H.  M.,  256. 

Hamilton,  Sir  W.,  17,  75,  84,  85. 
Harnack,  A.,  205,  213,  218,  222,  254, 
264,  278,  285,  308. 

Harris,  Samuel,  399. 

Hartmann,  399. 

Harvey,  W.,  35. 

Haug,  47. 

Haupt,  268,  41 1. 

Hegel,  59,  65,  66. 

Henslow,  G.,  40. 

Herbert,  T.  M.,  14,  81. 

Hermas,  252. 

Hilgenfeld,  179,  249. 

Hippolytus,  215,  253,  263. 

Hobbes,  8,  9. 

Hofman,  R.,  223. 

Holtzmann,  H.  J.,  223,  297. 

Holzenfeld,  179,  205,  21 1,  215. 

Hopkins,  Edward,  391. 

Hort,  F.  J.  A.,  264,  277. 

Humboldt,  Alex,  v.,  440. 

Hume,  58,  81,  169,  407. 

Hutton,  R.  H.,  91,  293. 

Huxley,  T.  H.,  7,  33,  37,  46,  50,  52,  53, 

170.  394.  395.  4°6- 

Ignatius,  201,  261. 

Irenaeus,  205,  207,  208,  209,  226,  252,  255, 

257- 

Isocrates,  119. 

James,  William,  19,  20,  21. 

Janet,  36,  40,  41,  43. 

Jerome,  218,  251. 

John,  “the  Presbyter,”  254,  257. 
Josephus,  186. 

Julian,  Emperor,  431. 

Jiilicher,  249,  297,  306. 

Justin  Martyr,  207,  211,  212,  217,  251, 
260. 

Kant,  I.,  13,  42,  58,  75,  83,  84,  167,  401, 

447- 

Keim,  144,  191,  198,  244,  249,  250. 


Kepler,  35. 

Koran,  the,  323. 

Kuenen,  455,  457,  458. 

Lactantius,  431. 

Ladd,  G.  T.,  4,  32,  37,  404. 

La  Place,  36. 

Leibnitz,  398. 

Lekebusch,  408. 

Lightfoot,  J.  B.,  132,  134,  179,  205,  208, 
225,  227,  249,  252,  254,  259,  260,  261, 
278. 

Lipsius,  224. 

Livy,  415. 

Locke,  John,  83. 

Long,  A.,  388. 

Loots,  196,  261,  286,  288. 

Lotze,  19,  23,  166. 

Lucretius,  43,  129. 

Luthardt,  303. 

Luther,  Martin,  93,  247. 

McGiffert,  205,  258,  272,  305. 

Maine,  Sir  Henry,  391. 

Mangold,  244,  250. 

Mangold-Bleek,  211,  320. 

Mansel,  81,  85,  392. 

Marcion,  229,  253. 

Marcus  Aurelius,  131,  132,  430. 
Martineau,  J.,  45,  54,  57,  67. 

Maurice,  F.  D.,  427. 

Maxwell,  Clerk,  15. 

Meyer,  H.  A.  W.,  179,  232. 

Mill,  J.  S.,  3,  6,  7,  8,  9,  32,  117,  317. 
Mohammed,  148. 

Mozley,  J.  B.,  156,  179. 

Muller,  J.,  16,  23. 

Muller,  K.  O.,  393. 

Muller,  Max,  388. 

Napoleon,  185. 

Neander,  139,  231,  240,  268,  295,  298, 
319,  411,431. 

Newman,  J.  H.,  425,  426. 

Newton,  John,  112. 

Niebuhr,  432. 

Nitzsch,  K.  I.,  23. 

Norton,  Andrews,  211,  221,  225. 

Origen,  122,  183,  207,  224,  226,  428, 

443- 

Owen,  48. 

Paley,  WM  30,  174,  238,  391. 

Papias,  206,  226,  227,  228. 

Parmenides,  398. 


INDEX 


463 


Pascal,  93,  447. 

Paulus,  137,  199. 

Pfleiderer,  388. 

Philo,  284. 

Pierce,  B„  34,  35. 

Plato,  19, 122,  123,  124,  125,  131,  140,  437. 
Plotinus,  137,  138,  398. 

Plutarch,  140,  415. 

Pollock,  66. 

Polycarp,  252,  254,  256,  258. 

Porphyry,  137. 

Porter,  F.  C.,  278. 

Porter,  N.,  32. 

Pothinus,  208. 

Proclus,  137. 

Purves,  G.  T.,  211,  212. 

Ramsay,  W.  M.,  252,  278,  319. 

Rashdall,  N.,  405. 

Renan,  144,  149,  150,  158,  191,  201,  208, 
231,  236,  280,  432. 

Resch,  215,  410. 

Reuss,  319. 

Reville,  257,  295. 

Rhys  Davids,  148. 

Ropes,  C.  J.  H.,  205. 

Ropes,  J.  H.,  215. 

Rothe,  Richard,  175,  411. 

Royce,  J.,  54. 

Sadler,  212. 

Sainte-Hilaire,  Barthelemy,  127. 

Sanday,  William,  211,  212,  230,  234,  287, 
3T9* 

Schelling,  65,  393,  399. 

Schleiermacher,  16,  174,  194,  408. 
Schopenhauer,  399. 

Scotus  Erigena,  398. 

Schiirer,  219,  294. 

Semisch,  211. 

Seneca,  132,  134,  136. 

Seth,  A.,  3,  401. 

Shakespeare,  135. 

Smith,  G,  A.,  245,  295. 


Smith,  Payne,  455. 

Smyth,  Newman,  37. 

Socrates,  30,  121,  122. 

Sophocles,  70. 

South,  Robert,  387. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  6,  8,  10,  46,  70,  72,  73, 
74-  76,  77.  78,  80,  81,  82,  85,  387,  389, 
399- 

Spinoza,  5,  7,  63,  64,  67,  81,  399. 

Stevens,  G.  B.,  278,  299. 

Strauss,  D.  F.,  144,  185,  200,  320,  432. 

Tacitus,  140. 

Tait  and  Stewart,  446. 

Tatian,  222. 

Taylor,  Isaac,  157,  430. 

Taylor,  Jeremy,  220. 

Tertullian,  206,  207,  217,  428. 

Thayer,  J.  Henry,  239,  410,  412,  413. 
Theophilus  of  Antioch,  251. 
Trendelenburg,  32. 

Tyndall,  69,  70. 

Ulrici,  18,  23,  81. 

Valentinus,  253. 

Von  Hartmann,  52. 

Ward,  James  W.,  36,  74,  75,  81,  396. 
Weiss,  B.,  157,  229,  232,  235,  272,  299, 319. 
Weizsacker,  271,  308. 

Wendt,  241,  266,  272. 

Wesley,  John,  13,  437. 

Westcott,  B.  F.,  211,  234,  236. 

Whewell,  46,  438. 

Wild,  N.  L.,  4x1. 

Williams,  Monier,  148. 

Wundt,  11. 

Xavier,  Francis,  424. 

Zahn,  179,  205,  208,  218,  222,  223,  227, 
228,  229,  264,  273. 

Zeller,  170. 

Zeno,  129,  135,  136. 


Date  Due 


